


If These Walls Could Talk

by colorado_blue



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Birth Control, Captivity, Character Study, Delusions, Developing Relationship, Doggy Style, Drug Use, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Harleen Had Issues, Harleen's History, Joker has terrible social skills, Joker is a virgin?, Learning how to have relationships, Learning to be a bad ass, Major injuries, Mentions of sex work, Minor Injuries, Miscarriage, Morning Sex, No abuse, Oral Sex, Pearl Necklace, Post-Suicide Squad (2016), Pre-Suicide Squad (2016), Rough Sex, Squirting, Talking to voices, Torture, Transformation, Vaginal Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-04-08 12:44:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 121,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19107352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorado_blue/pseuds/colorado_blue
Summary: We've seen what faces Harley and Mr. J show to the rest of the world, but what is our twisted couple like behind close doors? Watch their relationship develop from the night of the Acid Wedding through the end Suicide Squad as Harley learns in the ins and outs of Gotham's underworld and J learns how the whole 'relationship' thing works. Warning for violence and ample smut.





	1. Becoming Harley Quinn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The car parked next to a line of other luxury sports cars in the far end of the converted garage. In the low light, a man gracefully emerged from the car. From a distance there was nothing particularly impressive about the man. He was tall and thin, but he moved with deadly grace that screamed danger to any sane person as he walked over to and opened the passenger door. Thankfully, his companion wasn’t exactly sane. Nor was he for that matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my readers! I have been writing this story for almost a year and the final odyssey is 12 (possibly 13) chapters and runs from the Acid Wedding to after Suicide Squad. I’m not going to lie, this Mr. J doesn’t start off fluffy or soft- but I don’t think that makes sense for his character to transition from an isolated sociopath to part of a dynamic (though still sociopathic) duo in the blink of an eye. 
> 
> While I don't think my story will be problematic for many people, I do want to give a heads up for a few potential triggers. None of these are graphically described or are pervasive in the story. However, if you feel that any of the following could be detrimental to your well being, please take care of yourself and consider picking another story: (extremely, extremely) vague references to potential past sexual abuse, self harm, substance abuse, suicidal ideation, miscarriage, and a (very, very, very brief) threat of sexual violence. Chapter 10 will likely be the most potentially triggering chapter, so please take care of yourself accordingly. If I've missed anything you would like me to add to the list of triggers, please comment or message me and I'll consider adding it!
> 
> I wrote these chapters while listening to certain playlists and will always include which songs I was jamming to at the time!  
> Songs: Pray for Me- The Weekend, Kendrick Lamar; After Midnight- Dorothy; You Can be the Boss- Lana del Ray

        The building was tall and imposing. At one point, judging by the chipped and faded murals of sweets on the façade, it had been a candy factory. But it clearly hadn’t been one in a long time. A bright purple sports car pulled around the back of the building and pulled into a tunnel that ran under the building that had once been a loading dock for distribution trucks.  
        The car parked next to a line of other luxury sports cars in the far end of the converted garage. In the low light, a man gracefully emerged from the car. From a distance there was nothing particularly impressive about the man. He was tall and thin, but he moved with deadly grace that screamed danger to any sane person as he walked over to and opened the passenger door. Thankfully, his companion wasn’t exactly sane. Nor was he for that matter.  
        “Boss?” A figure dressed in a dark suit called from the stairwell on the opposite side of the garage where their trucks and more subtle cars were parked. The tall, thin man took hold of his companion’s bicep and began towards him.  
        “Ah, Frost, we have company tonight.” Mr. J announced with a dangerous giggle, his hand tightening around his companion’s arm. A look of surprise crossed Frost’s face as he noticed the woman his boss had brought back. He quickly returned his face to neutral; you didn’t survive working for Mr. J by letting your feelings be known.  
        “Where do you want her?” He asked, their rooms for various ‘business associates’ and henchmen that had crossed Joker were fairly full. The Boss had quite a few people who tried to grab power while he was in Arkham that needed to be reminded who was in charge. When Frost first joined up with his Boss he made the mistake of walking in on one his ‘playdates’ and nearly vomited. He was far from soft, but he wasn’t as creative and definitely didn’t enjoy it in the way Joker did (although, Frost wasn’t sure anyone did).  
        The woman was too far away in the dim light of the garage to get a good look at, but Frost didn’t think he recognized her. The only women he’d seen around Mr. J were the strippers and dancers he employed but he never interacted with them if he didn’t have to. He’d made a truce with Catwoman once for a very specific heist but didn’t think he’d seen her since (their truce had quite literally ended explosively after the Boss got bored).  
        As Frost approached the pair, he realized that both were covered in some kind of slime. Whatever it was it was dissolving their clothes rapidly and was leaving very little the imagination. Between the darkness and her long-matted hair, it was hard to get a good look at the woman. In the darkness he could make out she had a very nice body but no identifying characteristics. Not that the Boss would care. In all the years he’d worked for him Frost didn’t think he’d ever seen him take so much as a second glance at a woman. They bored him. Looking up at Joker, Frost knew that confusion was written all over his face. That would normally be a good way to get killed but the Joker seemed like he was a in forgiving mood.  
        “Get Slappy and tell him to fix up the nurse’s office. My little doctor should feel right at home there,” Joker laughed, pulling the woman closer to his body. Frost, confused but not stupid enough to ask to follow up questions, turned on his heal to find Slappy.  
        “Now, my dear,” Joker purred, pulling her close and putting his mouth next to her ear, “We’re going to go upstairs and see some of Daddy’s friends. Keep your mouth shut like a good girl and you’ll be fine.” The woman nodded silently and gave him a lopsided smile. J arched his naked brow, both surprised and confused by the fearless the woman on his arm. Shrugging, he turned towards the stairs and lead her to the large metal door that separated the garage from the rest of the building.  
Joker didn’t know what he was doing. It wasn’t unusual for him not to have a plan, but it was unusual for him to do something he wasn’t sure he wanted to do. The night was young and full of surprises.  
        Apparently, those surprises included glaring at his henchmen waiting for one of them to say something about their nearly naked slime covered Boss and an equally undressed and slimy woman so he could kill them. He scanned across the room, looking for someone he knew wouldn’t fuck up a simple order. There were four clusters of couches along the walls, mostly occupied by sleeping henchmen. There were two rows of tables down the center of the room, a handful of men were playing cards and another group was going over some blueprints. The men had their uses, namely wreaking havoc, but they would have too many questions.  
        “Stay here,” he told the woman next to him before walking off to a back room to find Frost.

 

* * *

 

        The woman’s eyes had gone wide as she turned to look around the space. It was surprisingly nice given the outside. The floors were polished concrete and the furniture was definitely designer. Smirking to herself, she wondered where they found a boutique furniture store with enough purple and green velvet couches, settees, and arm chairs for the massive room. She was busy imagining a stupid furniture store owner that only sold in Mr. J’s trademark colors horrified face when he learned that Mr. J had broken in again and stolen all his merchandise when she was abruptly brought back to awareness.  
        “Well, well, well” someone asked loudly, “who do we have here?” A man rose from his place behind her at a dark antique wooden table that was pockmarked with gouges from knives and several bullet holes. He was about six feet tall and built like a bull. His hair was buzzed short to show off the tattoos that covered his scalp. He approached her slowly, looking her up and down appreciatively until he was inches from her face.  
        “I was just telling Slugger here that it was a shit night and I needed to go find something a little more fun to do, but then a pretty little thing like you comes walking in. All-s you need is just a little cleaning up, don’t ya’ mama?” He reached his hand out, grabbing her hair. “Wanna have some fun? I pay well.” He smirked, tightening his grip.  
        “Hey, T.J!” One man called from across the room, “the Boss brought her in. Don’t touch his shit if you want to keep your hands.”  
        “Fuck off, we’re only talking. Besides since when has he ever brought someone back here? She’s probably a reward for Frost.” He yelled back before moving his hand down to the woman’s jaw in his hand and forcing her to look at him. “Once he is done having his fun, maybe we can all take a turn? Whadya think of that baby?” If he expected her to be scared or flinch away from him, he was disappointed.  
        She was scared, that was true, but mostly she was pissed. She wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline from chasing down Mr. J, falling several stories into a vat of who-knows-what, kissing him, or if it was just a side effect from the fumes whatever the hell she was coated in- but the fear didn’t seem very important. She was already pissed off when Mr. J pulled away when things had just started to get good. She wasn’t stupid enough to yell at Mr. J for wandering off, but she didn’t have the same qualms about taking her anger out on this gentleman who decided to put his hands on her.  
        “You wanna know what I think, hot stuff?” She smiled seductively at him, placing her hands on either side of his face. The man smirked thinking he was going to get some sooner rather than later. At least he was until she slammed his head down on to the table. She kneeled down next to his limp body, avoiding shards of bloody teeth, and hissed “You should really talk to a psychiatrist, your boundary issues really need some work. You might wanna let them know you called me mama and baby, seems like there might be some issues there.”  
        She stood, kicking his side, only to be pinned face down on the table by the guy T.J. had called Slugger. She was aware of a gun on her neck and tried to tell herself she wasn’t scared.  
        “If I’m gonna get killed, Mistah J should at least be the one to do it,” she pouted.  
        “You bitch! Who do you think you are to come around her and tell us what to do?” Slugger growled from behind her. Internally cursing her impulsivity, the woman tried to figure out how the hell she was going to get out of this one.  
        “Good move,” a familiar female voice said from somewhere inside her mind, “you finally get your precious Mr. J and immediately get us killed. Congrats.” The woman growled into the hard wood, unsure if that voice was real or not. She was fairly certain it was the voice of the woman she used to be that she and Mr. J killed earlier that night, but it was hard to tell when she couldn’t breathe.  
        “How far you’ve fallen Harleen, I hardly recognize you anymore. You can’t kill me, I don’t go away just because you decided to go for a suicidal swim.”  
        “Shut up” she gasped, not entirely sure who she was talking to, while looking for a way out. The man had at least 100 pounds on her and had her in a solid choke hold.  
        “I do what I want.” The man briefly tightened his grip on her neck and was reaching to grab her breast when a purple knife pinned his palm to the table. The woman could hear a familiar tsking noise from behind her that a woman called Harleen had heard a thousand times in a blurry room in somewhere called Arkham.  
        “Now, now my dear. Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play with someone else’s toys?” Mr. J crooned. The man was ripped off her body, the knife remaining in the table and tearing the flesh from between two of his knuckles. The woman stood and turned around just in time to see Mr. J shove the man to the floor and kneel on his neck. “I suppose I will have to teach you myself, though I’m afraid you won’t survive the lesson.” Joker began to laugh, “I’ll give you the full lecture later tonight but for now…” He leaned down and quickly cut off each of the man’s fingers on the hand that had almost groped her with a heavier knife that seemed to materialize from thin air.  
        Sighing, Joker stood back up, dusting nonexistent dust off of what was left of his clothes He looked around with a grin, pausing to chuckle at the T.J. who was groaning into a puddle of blood, before lazily pointing at one of the other henchmen.  
        “You,” he said, already bored, “hang both of them up in a room for me. Make sure they are awake when I come to visit later tonight.” Turning away, seemingly oblivious to their screams, he continued in a dangerous tone “everyone will come see what’s left of them. Anyone who touches her will get the same treatment.” He finally turned to the woman with a look on his face that plainly read he wasn’t sure what she was going to do but there was a right was and a wrong way for her to respond.  
        The woman began to giggle before she could stop herself. That annoying voice ‘Harleen’ was screaming at her that she needed to run. That he was going to torture and murder those men. That she was a sick bitch for how happy it made her. That there was something seriously wrong with her for wondering if she could watch whatever it was that he was going to do to these dead men walking.  
        She couldn’t care less. His henchmen were about to learn their lesson and the other man who was covered in the world’s grossest pudding, who had never helped anyone in his life, had just saved her ass. What wasn’t there to laugh about?  
        “Thanks, Puddin’” she said through her giggles. Henchmen around the room looked at each other, wondering what the hell was wrong with the naked interloper covered in mystery goo. How didn’t she know that disrespecting the Boss would get you killed?  
        “What the fuck did you just call me?” He growled, grabbing her chin. The woman didn’t so much as flinch, drawing confused murmurs from the onlookers.  
        “You look like you’re covered in Puddin’, Puddin’” she giggled back at Mr. J’s stony face.  
        “And that makes you…?” He asked, pointedly looking at her slime filled hair all the way down to the small puddle that had collected at her feet.  
        “I dunno,” she said sounding genuinely confused, “a dead girl named Harleen Quinzell keeps telling me I’m her. But we killed her Puddin’ so we better think of a different name.” She smiled, unafraid.  
        “Oh, I have several names for you already,” he purred back, grabbing her arm. He dragged her to the front of the building where a flight of stairs led to a cat walk the wound around the perimeter of the room. He dragged her to opposite side of the catwalk past a series of doors to the back wall where another flight of stairs led to a large door framed by a wall of windows. She expected him to drag her up the stairs but at the last minute he pulled her behind them to a door that blended in with the wall.  
        “Slappy!” He yelled at the door, “get over here!” The door burst open and a grinning man stood waiting for them. Not much had surprised the woman so far, the hide out was nicer than she expected, but everything else was basically how she had imagined it. Slappy was not. He was close to seven feet tall wearing full mime make up, a white bedazzled shirt covered in ruffles, and black and white striped trousers. Harley could see glittery black and white stilettos peeking out from the tattered hems of the giant’s pants.  
        “Ah, Slappy.” Joker grinned, “do you have everything ready for our guest?” The tall man nodded enthusiastically, almost dislodging his beret. “Good, good. Now show her the room and make a list of the things she needs for… let’s say a week. Take as many men as you need to go get everything.” The man smiled and clapped his hands excitedly, which Mr. J seemed to take as a sign his work was done. He turned on his heal and began to walk away.  
        “Wait!” The woman yelled. Joker turned around with his hairless eyebrows raised.  
        “What?” He asked, sounding like he was about to lose his patience.  
        “Where are you going?” She asked, surprisingly anxious about him leaving.  
        He towered over her, looking down his nose as this woman he’d somehow acquired, “Go with Slappy, get clean, and be a good.” The woman raised her hand to touch him. For a moment her hand rested on his cheek and he seemed to relax before flinching violently and gripping her wrist with bruising force. “Go.” He said again before abruptly letting go and storming away.  
        The woman stood in frozen shock after Mr. J walked away and left her with Slappy, almost wanting to cry. The big man patted her head sympathetically. She giggled sadly, looking at the strange silent man, wondering how the hell she was going to figure her Puddin’ (not that she would call him hers aloud, that seemed like a pretty efficient way to get killed). Before she had time to come to anything resembling a conclusion, Slappy took her hand with a big grin and dragged her into the room. He spread his arms out as if to say ‘ta’da’ and hovered his gloved hands over his cheeks in an exaggerated mime of shock while he waited for her to react.  
        The room was surprisingly luxurious. It had pale wooden floors and windows that looked out over Gotham. The double bed was pressed against the wall to her right opposite a door to what she really hoped was a bathroom and a large metallic wardrobe. The bed itself was a minimalistic, a dark wrought iron four poster with sheer golden curtains hanging from each side. Slappy pointed to the list and at various parts of her body then the wardrobe.  
        “I don’t really know what Mistah J is planning to do with me…” She trailed off, hoping Slappy would reassure her but knowing he couldn’t. No one knew what the Joker would do- and he didn’t tend to keep people around very long. Harleen spared no time reminding her that she saw that just minutes ago when he causally planned to kill the two henchmen who had harassed her. Shaking herself she listed various items, unsure if she was asking for too much. She figured Slappy would tell her if she was, but the man kept eagerly writing down whatever she said and prompting her to list more.  
        She walked over to the windows along the wall opposite to the door, wondering where the hell she was. The hideout was obviously somewhere in the old packing district, but other than that all she could tell was the building was on a hill somewhere over the city. She didn’t know Gotham well enough to recognize anything else. Looking to the side she noticed a modern black crocodile leather arm chair next to a small table with a lamp and a metal vase full of mostly dead dandelions. Slappy gestured at the flowers then mimed an imaginary light bulb over his head, letting her know it was his idea. The woman smiled back at him, the flowers looked oddly childish in this magazine ready room, but it was… sweet. So much had changed that night and while she wasn’t sure Slappy was all there (not that she was in any place to judge) she was glad there was at least one nice person in the hideout.  
        Realizing she was done talking, Slappy then took her hand and dragged her to the bathroom. It had black marble floors, dark purple tiling, plush emerald towels, and a sunken tub that she wanted to get lost in. Her skin didn’t hurt as much as it did when she first jumped in the vat, but it certainly wasn’t pleasant and all she wanted was to get the slime it off. Slappy seemed to notice her distraction and quickly mimed washing his body and pointed at the list again, asking her what she needed. She quickly rambled off the kinds of products she needed without taking her eyes off of the shower. Slappy finished writing, bowed theatrically, and skipped out the door leaving the woman wondering just what just happened.  
        She didn’t bother to take off her clothes when she stepped into the shower, it’s not like there was much left of them anyway. They weren’t really even her clothes. They belonged to a boring dead girl named Harleen Quinzell who kept insisting she wasn’t really dead. She turned the water to punishingly cold to numb her skin as the slime washed down the drain.  
The woman scrubbed at her body, trying not to think about the layers of skin that washed away with each rub. It was gross, but she wondered if it was a good thing. She had to shed Dr. Quinzell to get Mr. J’s attention, and now she was shedding Harleen to get him. It wasn’t like she shed anything important to her. She kept all the fun parts of Harleen and got to drop the act and all the boring parts. If that was all she had to do to have the man she loved, she’d do it happily.  
        “What is wrong with you?” Harleen screamed in her artificially accent free voice. “We worked so hard and you just ruined it. You threw away your PhD and helped get your colleagues murdered to, what? Run off and join the circus?”  
        “Yup!” The woman giggled back, unsure if it was actually funny or not. “And I don’t care so stop trying to make me. They were boring and now they’re dead.”  
        “You’ve always been fucked up, but this is a new level. You had to beg, borrow, steal, and fuck your way just to get through school. You’ve always had a criminal personality, but I thought you were smarter than this.”  
        “Don’t pretend you’re any better than me.” She laughed, “you beg, borrowed, sole, and fucked your way to the top missy- not me! I just wanted to play, and you wanted to be all fancy and boring. You’re just mad you didn’t get your way!”  
        “Great!” Harleen drawled sarcastically, “Well I hope you enjoy pining after an emotional black hole for however long he keeps you around. Because, for reasons I cannot begin to understand, you don’t even care that you just signed our death warrant!”  
The woman slid down the wall of the shower, giggling at Harleen. She was right, giving Mr. J all the power was a stupid thing to do, but it was going to be so fun. At least she hoped so. She’d been with him for less than a day and she was sitting in a fancy shower in a pile of Harleen’s clothing and skin. Through her increasingly hysterical laughs, the woman with no name wasn’t sure if she felt more like a phoenix or a cicada.  
        “I dunno what we are- but we sure aren’t Harleen! We just gotta’ give ya’ a new name, don’t we sugah?” a voice with a thick Brooklyn accent squealed from the back of her mind.

 

* * *

 

        J needed to get away from her. He should have killed Harleen weeks ago. He should have killed her the second she gave him a machine gun. Honored her by letting her be the first of many that morning. He walked down to the basement where they kept his playmates, needing to clear his mind. His henchmen made themselves scarce when they saw him. When he looked like that, it was a matter of when, not if, someone was going to die. He could hear Frost tell him room number three was ready for him but it was hard to understand when his mind was so far away.  
        Bursting in to the room in the basement, Joker smiled widely at the two men. Their wrists were bound over their heads and attached to hooks on the wall. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was so mad they touched the woman who used to be Harleen Quinzelle. It was true that he didn’t like his playthings touched, but he felt an unfamiliar sensation in his stomach when he saw the security footage over Frost’s shoulder of her dropping the first man. He didn’t have so much as a coherent thought before sprinting to keep his men from killing her. He wasn’t sure what that sensation was, but he didn’t like it. Almost as much as he didn’t like not knowing things. Thankfully, he had two delightful toys who had pissed him off ready to play.  
        “Ah, my friends,” Joker said, grinning at that night’s entertainment. This didn’t require thought, he could just select a random implement and play. Turning to his table of tricks he singsonged, “which one, which one? So many delightful choices Mr… it seems I’ve forgotten your names. No matter, the two of you won’t need them for very much longer.” He selected a small thin paring knife and a heavy butcher knife before turning back to his two little playthings.  
        “What a turn this evening has taken. You thought it was your lucky night, a beautiful woman in the hideout? What a surprise. But you made just one tiny mistake,” sliding close to the one who had propositioned her and thrust the long thin knife between his lower ribs and growled, “she wasn’t yours to touch.”  
        The next hour was just the kind of gory, creative relaxation he needed to let his mind wander. As it did all too often, his mind wondered back to the damn woman upstairs with Slappy.  
        Harleen had been a strange specimen, an experiment in Arkham that he never meant to get attached to. He wasn’t sure why he just electrocuted her instead of killing her. He told himself at the time he just didn’t feel like it, but when did he ever not feel like killing? Thinking about her dead made him feel like he wanted to crawl out of his skin and burn the world to the ground (and not for fun). He figured it didn’t matter, she would evaporate from his mind once he didn’t have to look at her every day and he could forget her like he did most of the phantoms that weaved in and out of his life. But his twisted psychiatrist had burrowed into mind and had been his constant companion since he left Arkham. Her reappearance was an unwelcome annoyance that made it harder for him to simply be the Joker.  
        She was different than anyone he could remember meeting before. At first, she’d almost fooled him with her pretty little doctor act with her perfect teeth and flawless speech. But as days turned to weeks at Arkham and he’d spent countless hours on the couch in her office he’d begun to dig through her façade. He’d met people who had similar traits to him, though they were clearly and substantially inferior, but he’d never met one who tried to hide it. She was manipulative enough to blend in with the boring little people of Gotham and smart enough to know just how superior she was. He’d made it a game to keep himself entertained while he waited for his escape plans to come together to pull the dormant monster out of his doctor to see whose was bigger.  
        The game and his escape plans gradually got tangled together in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He’d thought Doctor Barbie would resists his request for a machine gun for longer, but it seemed she was just as eager to free herself as he was to break out. She certainly exceeded his expectations.  
        At some point, his academic interest in her had morphed into a kind of obsession. He hadn’t planned on bringing her to ACE let alone having her to go for a swim. He had no idea how she had even found him (again) or where she got the stones to step in front of his car. Instead of doing the rational thing, speeding up and leaving a bloody pile of ex-doctor carpaccio in his wake, he’d destroyed his tires and brake pads in order to stop in time.  
        It was obvious she would die for him (her little stunt on the highway was rather the unexpected turn on) but it felt odd asking her if she would live for him, even his voice had fucking wavered when he asked her. He couldn’t understand what that sensation in his chest meant other than that he needed her to say yes. But he knew the answer would be no, no one lives for anything but themselves. Everyone wants power, to claim, to control. He would show her that there is no such thing as love and then... he wasn’t sure. Normally he’d say kill her, but he’d failed at that before.  
        He couldn’t even leave her in the vat. He’d never not been able to do something before. He began to laugh at his own weakness, though he wasn’t really sure why. If he was honest with himself (which he tried very hard not to be), he wasn’t really sure why did most of the things he did when she was around.  
        Looking down at the lumps of flesh that used to be his henchman his laughter took on a near hysterical tone. What was the fuck was he going to do with her? She didn’t so much as blink at the life style he lived or the people who he kept company with. The walking corpses who touched her had scared her, but fear was a distant second to rage. She’d shown promise with how she’d taken down the first one. While she couldn’t handle herself (yet), she would be a deviant little monster once she learned a thing or two.  
        He hadn’t been sure how she was going to react to his version of punishment. Dr. Quinzell would have pretended to be horrified but secretly would have enjoyed it. Harleen, given how dispassionately she shot the truck driver, wouldn’t have reacted at all. He wasn’t sure how the latest edition of his old psychiatrist would react. If she cried, vomited, or fainted he decided he would have to kill her. It would be too much work to care about her feelings every time he had a little fun. He was, for lack of better word, ‘glad’ she enjoyed his work.         Maybe she would learn to love it as much as he did.  
        Assuming she lived that long, of course. He didn’t think he’d kill her any time soon. She was his, which was undoubtedly a heady thought, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t annoy or bore him. But right now, he smiled to himself, she was his delightfully corruptible little monster. J rinsed of his hands in the large sink and pushed his hair back into place while walking back to the main room of the hide out.  
        “Everyone looks, and everyone helps clean.” He smiled at his remaining henchmen, knowing how much his playtime disgusted and terrified them. But no one was stupid enough to try and duck out of his punishment.  
        Joker walked into the former-Harleen’s room without bothering to knock. He owned the place, her room used to be his before they finished his apartment upstairs. He didn’t see his fascinating new creature, but he noticed that the shower was running. Walking closer he realized he could hear her talking to someone. He knew she was alone, no one was stupid enough to go up to her room after what he had done to the idiots who tried to touch… Well he wasn’t sure who she was. Definitely not Harleen or Dr. Quinzell, but he couldn’t begin to predict what his little monster would become. His experiment had gone rogue and taken on a life of its own. He crept closer to the door to hear her better.  
        “I know right, it was such a stupid name!” she giggled loudly before pausing as if to let someone else talk. Second ticked by with no answer before she responded to a voice J was beginning to suspect that only she could hear.  
        “Do you remember her mom?” she paused, “Her mom tried so hard to be fancy- I don’t think she even gave her a nickname. I think her stepdads gave her a few but those weren’t even the funny kind of mean.” She paused again, “Oh that is so much better!” She giggled before groaning. His face split into a grin, it seemed like he wasn’t the only one with a Greek chorus in their head anymore. He wondered if they’d always been there and she had chosen not to share that with the class, if he’d brought them out with the ECT, or if it was ACE’s doing.  
        “Shut up Harleen, the lady is right. Harley is a way better name, you’re just jealous you didn’t think of it.” J frowned, surprised how much he liked it. He rolled the name around on his tongue, Harley had a ring to it.  
        “No, lady. You’re right, Harley Quinnzelle sounds stupid. Besides it’s not like I should be using her old last name. Is there any way to shorten it that doesn’t suck?” She paused again. A long moment of silence passed, J began to wonder if she was done talking to her little friends.  
        “Quinn? Oh! Harlequin, like a jester?” she asked in a surprisingly serious voice. She paused again before sighing loudly, “Jesus, Harleen no one invited you. I don’t know if it will piss him off! Most things do.” He wasn’t sure what he thought of Harley being his little jester but found it oddly, he struggled for a word, pleasant.  
        “Thank you, lady! See Harleen, clowns and jesters are totally different things. I’m not hijacking his thing. Now please, shut the fuck up. Ideally both of you but mostly just Harleen.” J couldn’t help but laugh to himself, it seemed like his Harley would be cursed with all the annoying parts of Harleen that had irritated him for months. After a few minutes it became clear that Harley was done talking to her companions for the night which J took as his que to barge in.  
        “Well, the former Harleen Quinzelle, do I hear you have a new name?” He asked, smiling as he walked over to the shower where a surprised Harley sat with her knees curled to her chest staring at him. Her hands had reflexively gone to cover herself before realizing who it was and relaxing on the marble floor of the shower.  
        “Harleen hardly seems appropriate does it?” She smirked at him.  
Whatever J had been thinking or planning evaporated when he saw her. J had seen naked women before, he owned a damn strip club. But he had always found them boring, why bother with them when Gotham was so much more fun? People had been a tedious, albeit necessary, evil since he crawled out of ACE the first time- beauty didn’t change that. Beautiful women like Dr. Quinzelle never had caught his attention before.  
        Although, he had noticed the sway of Harleen’s hips, the curve of her waist, the roundness of her breasts, the swish of her hair. It had impacted him more than he was comfortable admitting (even if a cursory glance at his Arkham issued sweatpants could have answered that question, whether he admitted it or not). At the time it he had attributed it to a combination of his unexpectedly interesting doctor, sheer boredom, and the mysterious injections the guards kept giving him. He didn’t have an excuse now.  
        However beautiful Harleen had been, she was comically inferior to Harley. Her skin had been bleached by the acid, almost but not quite as severely as his. Her lips were now a pale pink that curved into that evil fucking smile. He had wondered what her golden hair had felt like before, but his fingers itched to bury themselves in her white hair that looked like it had been dipped in pink and blue ink. Her near white breasts made her cotton candy pink nipples look like a confection, and he was starting to develop a sweet tooth. She still had eyebrows and her eyelashes, but all of her body hair was gone, making the sliver of flesh between her legs he could see between her parted thighs somehow more enticing. He felt oddly human staring at her, captivated by what he was fairly sure was perfection.  
        He didn’t notice he was walking until he was under the spray of the shower kneeling in front of her. He could feel what was left of his clothes finally giving out and slipping to the floor. Harley beamed at him, reaching her hand up to his face to push green strands away from his face. He had to stop himself from flinching away from her touch and force himself to tolerate, if not relax against, her hand. Her eyes were trailing across his body, drinking in each of his tattoos and scars, tracing the lines of his defined muscles. By the time her eyes returned to his, they were almost black. She was biting her lower lip looking so… he didn’t have the vocabulary for what she looked like just then. Fuckable? Innocent? Seductive? Desperate? Perfect? He gave up trying to come up with the right word and wrapped one hand in her hair to crush her against him.  
        Something about the way she was looking at him.  
        Something about how much he (secretly) enjoyed her skin on his.  
        Something about the desperate tension that was building between the two.  
        Something about the terrifying ecstasy of ACE.  
        For a moment, just a moment, he lost control. Any memories he had of women had long since corroded from his acidic baptism, insanity, and rounds of ECT but that didn’t seem to matter when his lips pressed against hers. Harley gasped into his mouth, fisting his hair in one hand and griping his shoulder in the other. His skin wasn’t pealing like hers, but it was still sensitive and her lips against his hurt in the most delicious way he could imagine. The thin skin of one of their lips burst open from the pressure of their kiss. The taste of blood shocked Joker back to reality. His control, at least momentarily, reasserted.  
        He pulled away as if he had been burnt and rocked back on his heals to lean his back against the opposite wall of the shower. Just hours ago, he’d been planning on killing the obnoxious doctor and now he was thinking with his cock for the first time in his memory. He knew better than that.  
        Who was Harley Quinn to alter his plans or try to make him ‘human’? Everyone around him wanted money, power, or some other vice. But she claimed to be there because she ‘loved him.’ It made hilariously little sense.  
        “Why are you here?” He panted, looking bizarrely out of control.

 

* * *

      Harley paused, trying to figure out how to explain knowing that if she answered wrong, there was a non-zero chance of ending up dead. Her face crumpled into a confused look as she tried to explain herself. It was hard to focus after the eventful night she’d had and the distracting man at her feet.

        He hands were knotted in his hair making the muscles in his arms and shoulders flex and inadvertently showing off his abs. He looked like he’d been carved from marble. Back when she was Dr. Quinnzelle, several nurses had made less than professional comments about his physique (if not his face) being wasted on a monster like that. Harleen had been captivated by his presence too, but unlike the nurses, the first thing she’d latched onto about him was his golden grill. According to his intake forms it hid a collection of badly chipped and broken teeth (compliments of a less than civil debate with Batman). She’d been fascinated that instead of wearing them like a point of pride, as he did with many of his scars, or replacing them with a set of false porcelain teeth, like she had with her teeth, he’d encased them in gold. He didn’t hide his almost feral grin- he gilded it.  
        At the time she envied it for reasons she couldn’t really identify. Now she wanted to trace it with her tongue.  
        “I’m here ‘cause I want to be.” She responded finally, looking him in the eye.  
        “So, once you decide you don’t want to be, you’ll leave?” He asked with a concerningly blank look on his face.  
        “You know that isn’t true!” She yelled back, genuinely hurt he would accuse her of that. Whatever expression on her face seemed to make him pause in confusion. He pushed himself to standing and began to pace the bathroom. “Mistah J?” She asked in a confused voice. If he heard her, he gave no indication of it. Harley stared at him, trying to figure out where he had gone inside his mind. He’d been kissing a very naked, very willing woman. What man in the fucking world wouldn’t like that?  
        “Umm, snookims… that’s kinda the point.” The unnamed Lady’s voice called from the back of her head sounding like she couldn’t believe how stupid Harley was being. “Strike one, you made him act like a normal human man. Even Harleen coulda told you he hates that. Strike two, you’re not acting like everyone else. How often do ya think he’s around people who wanna be around him? Those friends you met downstairs aren’t there ‘cause they like him. You expect him to believe that he has lady-friend who doesn’t have a secret motive? Bullshit. Now, you wanna go for strike three or are ya’ gonna calm lover boy over there down before you get us dead?” Harley could practically hear the voice’s eyes roll as it faded away. She stood only for Joker to turn on his heal and pin her frozen form to the shower wall.  
        “Why?” he repeated, in a quiet confused voice.  
        “Harleen told you why.” She quipped quickly in an irritated tone before pushing him off of her. Her memories from before ACE were blurred but she clearly remembered that he didn’t respond well to the last time she told him she loved him and wasn’t eager to have that conversation again. She didn’t need to be rejected and murdered in the same night, thank you very much.  
        “I don’t understand why you do the things you do Harley Quinn.” His voice sounded odd to Harley, slightly strained and atypically emotive. After a moment his eyes took on a cold, clouded glaze and his voice returned to the ‘Boss-voice’ she’d heard down stairs.  
        “You have potential, but until you prove you can take care of yourself, you are not leaving this building. I have a city to run and while you may have your merits, Miss Quinn, you are an infinitely distant second to Gotham.” He continued in an urgent tone, “Work hard and be a good little girl- you get to come play. You understand?”  
Harley nodded with a curious blend of fear, excitement, and arousal. J stared at her incredulously, as if he could understand his twisted little beauty just by looking at her.  
        “Good girl,” he whispered after a few minutes, the clouded look fading from his eyes. “You’re mine, Harley Quinn. Don’t forget it.”  
        “Wouldn’t want to, Puddin’” she grinned back up at him, laughing madly. She wasn’t sure why she was laughing. She had no illusions, her Puddin’ might have saved her and protected her (he might even like her- though it may actually kill him to say it) but he was still volatile, insane, murderous, and fucked up beyond belief. But so was she, and she loved it.

 

* * *

 

        Historically Joker didn’t like to be touched. Ideas weren’t something that could be grasped, and they shouldn’t be sullied by the grubby hands of the small people. But Harley Quinn was an exception in every way. She bent over slightly laughing, her head bumping against his shoulder and her breasts brushing against his chest.  
        J tried to ignore the sensations of her skin on his and her breath against his neck. Tried to ignore the way the steamy shower smelled like her. Tried to ignore the fact that his obsession, the woman whose web he’d somehow become stuck in, had pressed her naked form against his. He failed miserably, but he tried.  
        Harley’s momentary obliviousness faded with her laughs as she tilted her head up to face him with a dazed smile on her lips. The tension that had been building between them for months in Arkham had only been fed by their kisses and was reaching a boiling point. The cliched, nearly electric feeling would have made J laugh if he wasn’t so distracted.  
        The two stared at each other for several minutes neither noticing the small shifts of their bodies. J slid his feet closer to the wall. Harley spread hers further. J leaned towards her, so he curved over her form. Harley arched her back, so her breasts pressed harder against his chest. J leaned his face incrementally closer to his. Harley’s hands that had rested on his shoulders now curved around to grip the back of his neck. J’s left hand slid down the wall to rest on her hip.  
        It was unclear who kissed who, who broke first. Maybe it was Harley, a notoriously impatient person, who gave into the sensation of his breath on her lips. Maybe it was J, who wasn’t known for restraint, who gave into the feel of her soft skin against his. It didn’t matter who broke first, all that mattered was the crushing force with which they came together. The kiss wasn’t gentle or nice but neither of them wanted it to be. It was teeth and tongue and desperation and need.  
        Their previous kisses had been all violence and comedy. They hinged on brief loss of control. This kiss was still violent, but its passion exceeded a momentary lapse or impulse. It was surrender to the madness that pulled them together like gravity. It was desperate and consuming, but this time J didn’t bother to fight it. He didn’t want to. There would be consequences but, at least for now, they couldn’t matter less.  
        J pulled away to gasp for air. He couldn’t help but moan at the sight of Harley’s flushed cheeks and swollen lips. She was panting, making her chest pulse against his rhythmically. He was captivated by the sight of her paper white skin against his equally bleached flesh. The pulse of her jugular was almost hypnotic. Before he could consider what he was doing or why he wanted to do it, J was pressing his teeth to her neck. He attacked with a series of rough bites and hard sucks, watching bruises bloom. It would be so easy to bite, to tear his monster apart. Watching himself being consumed by an unfamiliar but intoxicating violence was overwhelming. If her moans and gasps were anything to go by, she was enjoying it at least as much as he was.  
        He was dimly aware of Harley shifting her weight and gripping his shoulders tighter, but he didn’t realize what she was doing until she jumped slightly to wind her legs around his waist. His knees almost buckled. Not at her weight, but at the hot and slick sensation of her slit against his length. He thrust reflexively, unable to stop himself, and couldn’t help but growl at the moan that escaped Harley’s throat.  
        Her heart beat was pounding against his ears, drowning out his thoughts. They were both panting and gasping for breath. Tearing himself away from her, J leaned back and stared at her face. He’d never seen that expression on her face before. It was a smile somewhere between smug, feral, and aroused. He couldn’t help the laughter that clawed through his throat, here was a beautiful little monster winding herself around an even bigger, badder monster.  
        “Please!” She moaned against his mouth, bucking her hips against his length. J was flattened by the need in her voice, this new kind of power he had over her (and, while he would kill anyone who said so, a new kind power she had over him). Taking a deep breath to reclaim his voice, he smirked at her.  
        “Do you want something?” he purred, gripping her tighter so she couldn’t grind against him. It was too distracting. Too pleasurable. Too much.  
        “You! Fuck, please,” she gasped, “touch me.” She thrust her chest forward so her breasts were only inches from his face while looking at him with those big, desperate eyes. Trying to keep control and not give into the temptation squirming in his arms, he tsked at her.  
        “Not until you say the magic words pumpkin.” He would have laughed at how pissed she looked if it hadn’t been so fucking hot.  
        “Pretty, pretty please touch me.” She leaned into him, putting her lips to his ear whispering, “I’ve been such a good girl” before biting down on his neck hard as she scratched her nails down his chest.  
        “Fuck!” He gasped, unprepared for the sensation “You want something Harley?” He growled, lowering his face to her breasts, “You want this?” J almost wished he had taken off his grill so he could completely feel her against what was left of his teeth but was too preoccupied to give it much thought. She was consuming him with her moans, her scent, her skin.  
        “Mistah J!” she yelled, desperate for more. Neither could pinpoint any particular sensation that was making them loose their heads. It was rough and uncoordinated and fucking overwhelming, but it was perfection.  
Whatever control he had over himself snapped, he spun them around and sunk to the ground while leaning against the wall. He placed lifted his knees off the floor to brace Harley’s back as she straddled him and pressed her lips against his again and again. No longer content to wait for the impossible man to move things along, she pressed her hands against his chest and trailed them downwards. His skin was impossibly silky and hairless like hers from the acid bath which made the smooth glide of her hands more erotic.  
        “Pretty, pretty, please Puddin’,” she whispered again. J groaned against her mouth tearing himself away, staring at her body. His hands trailed down from where they had been knotted in her hair to her shoulders, over her breasts (that were delightfully pink and purple), across her soft stomach, and traced along her vagina  
        “So fucking wet,” he muttered almost inaudibly as he petted her. Harley choked on her moan the second he started making those delightful little circles across her clit.  
        “Goddamn it Harley, I-” J grunted, cutting himself off as he pushed her off of his lap to lie flat on the floor of the shower. He pressed Harley’s knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her thighs. She knew Harleen would have been embarrassed at how exposed this position left her, but all Harley could do was moan.  
        J’s eyes were locked on her exposed cunt and blazed with a kind of desperation she’d never seen before. He trailed his fingers down her torso and traced the seam of her lips from her mons down to the globes of her ass.  
        Harley couldn’t remember Harleen’s skin ever being this sensitive or her bottom being an erogenous zone, but it wasn’t as if she’d ever been particularly attracted to the men who’d touched her before. Orgasms were always more of a happy accident than anything else. But tonight, it seemed J barely had to touch her, and she was craving more.  
        “Please,” she whimpered. J smirked in response and pressed his lips back to hers with a vengeance. His fingers were slow and methodical, exploring each patch of skin on her lips and clit before sliding a single digit inside of her. Harley’s hips jolted as a wave of juices dripped from her and were washed away by the spray of the shower.  
        “Uh!” She grunted, her hips dancing erratically under his attentions. She could hear J growling from behind closed lips that trailed from her mouth and down her neck. He stopped to suck at her pulse point, making her break out in goose bumps, before continuing down to her nipples. Between the sensation of his hard grill, soft tongue, and probing fingers- Harley’s walls were spasming. But it wasn’t enough, she needed more. Needed something.  
        “So good,” she chanted insanely, “so, so good. Uh!” His finger paused only for him to slide a second one into her depths. “Fuck! Need more, curl them. Curl your fingers, yes!” She shouted as he followed her orders with uncharacteristic obedience.  
        Harley’s hips began to rock against his thrusts, desperate for more contact. She could feel the tell-tale warning signs of her approaching climax. That deep clenching sensation. Her breath growing more and more erratic. Momentary flickers of pleasure that threatened sparkled across her body.  
        “Almost, Puddin’” She whimpered, on the verge of tears from needing to come so badly. She shouted against his lips that returned to her with bruising, unpracticed force. Without thinking she trailed her hands down her body and began to circle her clit.

 

* * *

 

        J tore himself away from her lips to see what she was doing and almost came on the spot. Her face was contorted with ecstasy and her head thrown back against the marble tiles. Her long pale fingers danced in circles over her clitoris above the place where his fingers drilled into her wetness.  
        “Harley,” J groaned before he could stop himself. He couldn’t think, his mind was full of the fascinating creature who was deconstructing underneath him. It seemed that his muscle memory hadn’t faded even if his biographical memory was gone. Her gasps and moans and the slight twitches of her muscles around his fingers had become a road map to his caresses.  
She looked painfully beautiful in ecstasy and he needed to see her come like he needed air or chaos. He wasn’t sure how or when it became a need- but it was an all-fucking-consuming one.  
        “J!” She suddenly screamed, interrupting her gasps for air. His cock pulsed against her thigh and his fingers seemed to move faster and harder of their own volition. He needed this. Needed to see her loose control underneath him. Needed her to fall into bliss.  
        When it happened, it wasn’t stubble nor in the least bit quiet. Her vocalizations echoed throughout the room over the dull roar of the shower. Her legs twitched against her torso while her stomach turned to stone. J watched in fascination, his eyes flickering between her clenching hole and her beautiful blue eyes that had rolled to the back of her head. Her hips bucked against him and he could feel a pulse of wetness against his fingers that made his already painful erection throb with need.  
        Her orgasm was slow to build and slower to fade, just when J thought she was done her fingers would speed up on her clit again and her cries would restart. J matched her pace with the thrust of his fingers inside of her and watched in rapturous fascination. Eventually, her hand fell limply by her side and J reluctantly removed his hand from her pussy.  
        He was almost shocked with the purplish hue of his cock and the amount of precum that had seeped down his shaft. It wasn’t as if he never got off, but it was never this urgent. Certainly, no erection had been this painful before.  
        He was staring at Harley’s face, transported by the events of that evening. He was too distracted to notice her hands trailing from his hair, down his chest, and to his cock. It wasn’t until she wrapped her hand around him and squeezed that he lost it. He fought the urge to grab her hand and push it off of him, push her away and storm out of the room. The sensations were too electric, too consuming, to walk away.  
        “It’s OK, Puddin’,” Harley murmured in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. She let her hands slow, tracing lightly up his side and caressing his thighs. “I won’t hurt you.” J closed his eyes and shook his head. He knew better than to believe that.  
        For a moment he thought she was giving up. He lowered his head in disappointment while trying to regulate his breathing. It was better this way. He could benefit from watching her get off and the power it gave him without sacrificing any of his own. It wasn’t his most convincing argument, but he’d convinced himself of even further fetched ‘truths’ before.  
        “Look at me Puddin’,” Harley said in a seductive voice. J clenched his jaw, unwilling to open his eyes. She was his fucking kryptonite and she knew it. He noticed and odd squelching sound and an enticing sigh from the woman underneath him that began to coax his eyes open. Through silted lids he watched as Harley slid three glistening fingers from deep in her pussy and wrapped her hand around his cock.  
        “Fuck,” he murmured unable to restrain the deep groan that escaped his chest. He didn’t notice his hands slipping from his hair to her thighs where he gripped them with bruising force. He was, however, consumed by the teasing sensation of the tips of her fingers tracing his frenulum and pulling back his sheath. His cock jumped violently in her hand and a small trickle of his fluids began to drip down her fist.  
        “Yes. Let your Harley girl take care of you,” she purred. J gritted his teeth and bit his tongue trying to choke back any noises. He thought he couldn’t take the almost ticklish sensation of her finger tips rubbing the pin prick sized hole at the tip of his member or lightly teasing his balls. Then she wrapped her fist fully around him and began to squeeze him, not moving her hand. Just milking him. That was pure ecstatic torture.  
        J’s hips thrust against her grip in a nonverbal plea for her to move her hand. To squeeze him harder. Anything. Instead all he got was the sharp burn of her nails scratching down his back and pinching at his nipple. His cock was now leaking a steady drip and his grill was going to be ground to a fine gold dust from his battle to remain silent.  
        “Look at me,” Harley begged in a voice that betrayed just how much she was enjoying watching the usually stoic man fight to maintain composure. J forced his eyes the rest of the way open. “You have no idea what it does to me to see you like this,” she moaned. He fought to keep his mouth open and not tell her the same.  
        Her fist finally started moving around his length. She pumped him slowly at first and collecting lube that her pussy was so generously supplying as needed. As J felt his face continue to contort in his efforts to remain unaffected, he fell forward. One hand rested just below Harley’s shoulder, placing him at eye level with her nipples and pinning her legs curled to her chest with his torso.  
        He couldn’t help himself anymore. He lowered his face to her nipples to kiss and suck at them desperately. Out of his mind, he somehow ended up at her lips and was kissing her soundly again. He wasn’t clear how he got there. All he knew was the sensation of her hand pumping and twisting around him, sporadically rubbing her palm over his tip, while her other pulled against the ascent of his balls.  
        “Fuck!” J gasped. Of course, he’d had orgasms (even if he couldn’t remember most of them). But he’d never felt so mindless or like he was outside of his body before. He needed the sensation to never fucking stop, but he needed to come. Now.  
        He pushed himself back up to sitting on his heals with one hand braced over Harley’s shoulder. His free hand joined her around his length, pumping their hands faster and harder around him. Harley moaned and placed her feet on his shoulders, opening her pussy to his gaze even more.  
        “Come on me, Puddin’. Come for me, mark me.” She moaned seductively while spreading her petal-like lips apart with her free hand and aiming the tip of his cock at her clit. He was gone. The second he saw just how wet she was, as soon as she told him to mark her, it was over.  
        An almost violent flavor or pleasure ripped from his groin and seemed to spread across his body while his balls felt like they were trying to crawl up into his torso. Harley’s delicate hand interlaced with his pumped even harder, even faster, while his hips bucked to their own rhythm. Her face was so concentrated, almost worshipful, and so fucking happy that it almost hurt. Before he could even try to process what that feeling meant, his cocked lurched a final time and sprayed his seed across her mons and on to her clit.  
        Her clear shiny juices mingled with his seed, marking her as his and showing off their shared handy work. His lungs burned and his hips were rocking violently as he was hit with wave after wave of pleasure. The sheer amount of fluid his balls ejected would have been funny if watching Harley glaze herself with his cock hadn’t been so fucking hot.  
        Eventually, pleasure started to recede, and all J could do was curl forward and place his head between her breasts while he gasped for air. He (almost) didn’t notice that their hands, no longer holding his cock, were still intertwined.

 

* * *

  
        She wasn’t sure how long he kneeled between her legs, his softening cock resting on her hip. It could have been two minutes, it could have been ten. She would have been happy if he stayed there all night. But eventually he stood and pulled her to her feet with something like a smile his face.  
        The weight of the day combined with some very good play time that promised to leave her absolutely covered in bruises the next day was suddenly hitting her. She stumbled to bed and flopped face first on to the duvet. J stood by the foot of the bed, twitching and look antsy. She wasn’t sure why he was still there when his mind was clearly becoming too loud. Mr. J could come and go as he pleased but for some reason, he was waiting for her to do something.  
        It made her smile in a way she didn’t know she could. But she also knew from her time as Harleen that the best thing for him when his mind got too loud was to go tire himself out. She was too tired to talk him through it or go do whatever it was the Joker did for stress relief. However, that didn’t mean she couldn’t give him her (inexplicably desired) blessing to go play.  
        “Go have fun and blow off some steam. Kill some people or go piss off Batsy. I know you don’t wanna sit around and talk about feeling. Kay?” The last thing Harley heard before she fell asleep was the most genuine sounding laugh that she’d ever heard from Mr. J.

 

* * *

 

        J smiled to himself, he couldn’t have asked for a better response. Lucky him.  
        He hadn’t anticipated tonight. He sure as hell hadn’t planned on letting her touch him. It felt odd to be recreating motions he knew he’d done before but couldn’t remember anymore. Pride was a familiar feeling, he was usually proud of his work, but this second feeling he would guess was ‘happiness’ was very foreign. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not, but he thought he rather enjoyed the creature Harley Quinn was turning out to be.  
        Chuckling to himself, he stood to leave her room, pausing by the door to stare at Harley’s sleeping silhouette. Joker knew he should kill her, she was a pointless distraction. She was asleep now, he could slit her throat and she could die thinking she’d gotten everything she wanted. J paused, hitting his head against the doorframe several times to clear his head. The fucking voice named Jack rarely spoke up anymore wouldn’t shut up tonight and kept calling him on his bullshit.  
        They both knew he wouldn’t kill her. They both knew he was lying when he said she was a distant second interest compared to Gotham. But if she ever found out, a different, more dangerous voice he never bothered to name murmured as he closed her door behind himself, he would have to kill her.  
        J rushed upstairs to find himself some decent clothes he could wear out. There was no way he could sleep; his mind was too busy. Too loud. Even before Harley he’d been rushing to take back his territory and kill off his competitors who tried to take advantage of his absence. Now she was making everything confusing.  
        “Well only one way to solve that problem,” he giggled to himself as he got dressed. Grabbing several choice knives and guns from his closet he turned to leave his room. There were several other people to visit in the basement whose frowns needed to be turned upside down. Maybe when he was done with them his mind would let him rest.


	2. First Time for Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was something strange about someone looking genuinely happy to see him. People were happy when he made them money, or sold them protection, when he gave them what they wanted, or that they survived a meeting. He supposed that Harley wanted to be around him (for reasons he couldn’t begin to understand) so she was kind of getting what she wanted, but it wasn’t exactly the same. She looked at him like he was her fucking lord and savior at times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, readers! Thank you so much for coming back for chapter two. Can’t wait to see what you all think of this chapter, it’s a long one (42 pages!!). Mr. J has a fair bit of learning to do when it comes to interpersonal skills and Harley has a whole lot more to learn about his world.
> 
> Songs: Kill of the Night – Gin Wigmore; Young God- Halsey; Control – Halsey; Come See About Me- Niki Minaj

      Harley was pouting. She hadn’t really seen Mr. J in ten days. He’d come by the morning after her first night to bring her a duffle bag full of clothes and had been surprised by how much Slappy had stolen for her but suspected that was just because Mr. J didn’t want anyone else to see her naked. The clothes made her dizzy. Harleen had walked by those stores in the uppity parts of Gotham before and looked longingly at some of their items. Being a criminal institutional psychiatrist paid fairly well but she had accumulated a panic inducing amount of student debt in the process of becoming a PhD/MD. A pair of boots she had tried on in of those boutiques cost more than a month’s rent.

      Of course, before her career took up all her time, she could have flashed her smile and found a ‘benefactor’ to purchased them for her. She’d even gotten her perfect porcelain capped teeth done curtsy of a donor to her university’s gymnastics team that had taken a ‘personal interest in her.’ He wasn’t an unattractive man but, other than serving his purpose of keeping her clothed and sheltered, he wasn’t Harleen’s type. He was long gone but the designer outfits and jewelry he gave her were there to stay. When trying to catch Mr. J’s eye she’d even worn a pair of stilettos her little friend purchased her years before.

      After their night together and being gifted Gotham’s finest Harley gotten her hopes up that Puddin’ was going to spend more time with her (which made the Lady in her head who didn’t have a name yet laugh for a solid five minutes). Instead, Mr. J just told her to get dressed and that Frost would bring her breakfast and get her set up then left. Harley knew better then to get mad or ask him when she’d see him again, so she spent the next hour angrily playing dress up wondering what the hell ‘set her up’ meant.

      It turned out that meant the stern man in a boring suit and bright tie was taking her to class. Harleen had liked school, mostly because she liked being better at things than other people, but she didn’t like this. Luckily Harley did. In the evening she spent a couple hours in the basement armory and shooting range with Frost until he was called away to go to the club.

      After Frost left, a bull of a man named Tuck would escort her to a room behind the kitchen that had been converted into a gym and work on her fighting skills. It was just a large room that someone had filled with crash mats, weights, a couple of ropes, and punching bags. Harley wasn’t sure if Harleen had a secret past as a fighter she’d forgotten or if ACE had changed her more than she realized but she was surprisingly good. Being a five-foot-nothing woman gave her the element of surprise and her history as a gymnast certainly helped but Tuck still usually kicked her ass.

      Tuck looked like he could go all night and Harley was determined enough to try but Slappy would always appear sometime after midnight and drag her to the kitchen between the gym and the main room of the hideout. After lunch Slappy and another man who never shut up but somehow failed to introduce himself (who Harley internally referred to him as Discount Guy Fawkes) showed her how to play with explosives. Those lessons were very fun.

      At the end of the night a wraithlike man (who Harley internally _and_ externally referred to as Professor Dementor) with a perpetual scowl on his face would work with her on knife skills. Knife fights seemed to come to her naturally (especially once the first blood had been drawn), but Harley quickly learned that throwing knives was _way_ harder than it looked. It didn’t help that her instructor would glare at her every time her knife bounced of the target or got imbedded in the wall to the side of the target. She wondered if Mr. J would mind if she carved Professor Dementor a new smile.

      Nine days into her new life Harley was tired. Sometimes she thought she saw Mr. J from the corner of her eye while she was training but she wasn’t sure if he was there or she just wanted him to be. Sometimes he stopped by her room and talked to her for a few minutes, but he never stayed for very long. When she was in the bath and she was sure no one could hear her, she’d let herself cry. She gave up everything for her Puddin’ and now he wasn’t playing with her. She didn’t really have anything she wanted to hold on to in her old life, but that wasn’t the point.

      All the beautiful bruises he’d left across her hips, chest, and thighs were gone. Now her bruises were the shape of Tuck’s limbs and the butts of various guns Frost was teaching her to use. Her arms were covered in cuts from defending against Professor Dementor. The skin on her finger tips were pealing from whatever chemicals she, Slappy, and Discount Guy Fawkes were playing with. Everything hurt but it was all so fun. Harleen kept asking what was wrong with her, Harley tried to avoid listening to her but sometimes Harleen sounded so distressed she couldn’t help laughing.

      On her tenth night in the hideout Harley was jolted from sleep by someone knocking frantically at her door. Harley tore open glared at Slappy who seemed immune to her rage. He might be an oddly adorable creepy mime, but he was about to be a corpse in a sparkly costume if he didn’t have a good reason for waking her up. The man didn’t seem bothered by her obvious irritation and burst into her room, skipping to her closet and pulling out an outfit and pointing at it and her.

      “What the hell Slappy? I’m not meeting Frost for another hour,” she whined. Slappy shook his head and pointed at her clothes again. Harley grabbed the outfit Slappy picked out for her and decided either she trusted him or she would just have another reason to hurt him later. “Fine! I’m getting dressed- but if I go down stairs and I didn’t need to be awake for another hour I will carve you a set of wings.” Slappy just smiled and wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

      Twenty minutes later Harley was dressed in a pair of black leggings, a dark red sports bra with a series of black diamonds on the chest, a loose black tank top, and a pair of black boots. She hadn’t had time to really do her makeup, opting to put her hair in two little buns on top of her head and throw eyeliner and mascara on. She wasn’t happy to be awake so early (the sun was still up for fucks sake) but she was curious.

      Whatever Harley guessed was waiting for her, it was not a gym full of Mr. J’s henchmen. She’d was there gym every night, but it had always been empty. She knew the others used it and figured the Mr. J had made sure to keep the others out while she trained. She wasn’t sure why, but she was glad the other men wouldn’t know what she could and couldn’t do yet. Slappy had patted her on the shoulder for good luck and had the sense to wander away when Harley turned glared at him in a way that threatened actual violence.

      “Mornin Miss Quinn!” Tuck boomed from across the room, walking her way. Harley knew the henchman hadn’t figured out who she was or what she was doing there (to be fair she hadn’t either). Most of the men kept their distance, mumbling apologies if they got in her way to avoid pissing the Boss off. Others, like Tuck, tried to endear themselves to her in the off chance the Boss ended up keeping her around. Harley sashayed over to Tuck and faux-whispered in an overly thick Brooklyn accent.

      “Wowza Tuck- you throwin’ a party and forget to tell your girl Harley?” Harley kept a big smile on her face while trying to size the men up. There were ten men plus Tuck standing around looking like they were ready for a fight. They weren’t the biggest or the strongest ones she’d seen around the hideout, but Harley knew better than to assume that meant they would be easy to take down.

      “Nah! You know I wouldn’t do that,” Tuck laughed, “the Boss wanted to kick things up a notch and he wasn’t playin.” Harley could see that Tuck was tense, his left eye kept twitching even as he tried to play it off the set up as a casual change of schedule.

      “Oh, shut up,” Harley giggled, hoping she could throw him off enough to slip up. “You and I both know the Boss doesn’t turn things up just one notch. Tell Harley, whadya got planned today?” Tuck’s eye flicked around as he scratched the back of his neck. Judging by how badly the usually casual man was sweating Harley could tell there was going to be consequences for at least one of them if things didn’t go the way Mr. J wanted. When it came to Mr. J, consequences usually meant dying. The only question was which one of them had their head on the chopping block.

       “Well you’ve been doing such a good job, I mean you’ve knocked me on my ass, and the Boss wanted you to try something a little harder. Well and you said, never just one notch- but you’ll be fine!” He started laughing again but he couldn’t pull it off the way her Puddin’ could. Tuck just sounded awkward and strained. Sighing to herself, Harley turned to the crowd and plastered a giant smile on her face.

      “Hiya boys!” Harley giggled. If she was going to have to fight Mr. J’s men, and it was seeming likely, she was at the very least going to confuse them first. She ran through stretches and floor runs she knew Harleen had done back when she was on her college’s gymnastics team, bending and flipping unnecessarily to give the guys a show. The tank top was meant for a runner, not a fighter, and as she spun in the air she could feel it slipping off.

      “That’d be a good way to throw em’ off wouldn’t it?” Lady wolf-whistled, “take it off!”

      “Harley you know it’s going to make Mr. Joker mad!” Harleen hissed back.

      “Oh, come on! He hasn’t been around. It’d be a good way to get his attention,” Lady responded in a baby voice.

      “Having him mad is better than nothing, what kind of logic is that?” Harleen yelled.

      “Both of you shut up, I’m busy” groaned Harley. Somewhere between her last areal cartwheel and back handspring she decided to let her tank top slip off over her head. She decided to strike the landing on her backflip harder than was strictly speaking necessary to make her breasts bounce, she’d deal with Mr. J later, right now she needed to work on not getting killed. Adopting her most innocent, confused expression she looked around the room at the slack-jawed staring men. These kinds of men were hilariously easy to control sometimes.

      “What? I got something in my teeth?” Grinning at the silent room Harley sashayed over to Tuck and asked in a baby voice, “We gonna play or what?” Tuck nodded silently, sweating even more than he had when she first walked in the room.

      “Sure thing, Miss. Quinn. Same rules- no teeth, no weapons, you’re in till your knocked out. Other than that, no rules.” He paused looking around the room before yelling, “Alec and Panda! Over here. You two against Miss. Quinn.”

      Later that night she’d try to remember how she got different bruises and pressure cuts but would be unbale to recall any specifics. She remembered Panda landing a solid hit to her chin that made her stumble into Alec who picked her up and tried to throw her into a wall. She also remembered taking advantage of her flexible hips to wrap her legs behind her and around Alec’s torso, swinging down underneath him, and using her momentum to slam him face first into the ground. Harley bounced up immediately after, accidentally kicking Panda in the crotch as she flipped to standing and running to kick Alec in the back of the head till he stopped trying to get up. She wasn’t sure how she took down Panda, but his arm didn’t look too good and she was pretty sure his nose was broken.

      Tuck called up another three men who had been loudly taunting the first two for getting taken down by a little girl. Harley made a point of choking one of them out with her thighs for that while the another one tried to restrain her arms. Before he even registered his buddy was down, she headbutted him with the back of her skull (which she concluded looked way cooler than it felt and should be avoided in the future). She kicked the third one in the stomach hard enough to make him puke and whispered something in his ear that she couldn’t remember that made his eyes go wide before she slammed his head into the wall hard enough to drop him. The sixth man reluctantly charged her on Tuck’s order but seemed worried that if he hurt her Mr. J would be mad at him. He almost seemed happy when she locked her arm in place around his neck.

      By then the men were starting to get ansty. Here was this tiny little woman who was definitely crazy dropping their men like it was nothing. The remaining four men looked at each other uneasily. The strange looking woman their Boss brought to the hideout had been covered in bruises before she even stepped onto the mat, but she didn’t seem to notice. She seemed oblivious to her busted lip, the friction burn running down her side, and a punch that looked like it should have broken at least one rib.

      The seventh man’s hits hurt enough to make her laugh, which made him too mad to do a good job. The eighth one seemed scared. Harley couldn’t help but laugh at their faces as they dropped. A bunch of men who thought they were tough getting taken down by a little thing like her. Silly them. They had no idea who she was.

      The last two were more difficult. Harley was still having a good time, but she could tell her hits were getting less precise with exhaustion. The last two standing were fresh, pissed, and now their ego was at stake. It took longer to drop them, but she managed to hit number nine in the trachea with the side of her hand hard enough to make him double over. After that it was easy enough to knee him in the head until he fell. The other guy was truly annoying. He didn’t seem to react to punches to the gut, kicks to the side of the knee, or even direct nose hits. He managed to throw her across the room, which hurt like hell and pissed her off. Harley was tempted to jump up and run at him but decided last minute to wait, he was stronger and bigger. Her best chance was waiting till he got close and surprising him. He swaggered over, looking proud as a peacock and leaned down dramatically slowly to wrap his hands around her neck. Which she then took as an opportunity to put shove her fingers into his eye sockets as far as she could.

      It was bloody but effective. And funny. The henchmen who had stuck their heads around the door to the gym looked at each other in impressed horror. Something about a pale, slip of a woman covered in blood and laughing rang a whole lot of alarm bells.

      Harley was ecstatic, she’d beaten all ten! Giggling to herself she did a few celebratory improvised diagonal floor sets and jumped onto the two ropes the swung close together in the far corner of the gym. She quickly shimmied to the top and began wrapping her wrists. Harleen had only done ropes a few times but she had done silks more times than she could count.

      Humming to herself, Harley let herself fall backwards and flip over and over until she was suspended by her legs in a full split. Swinging back up, she pulled herself back up the ropes by pulling them between her legs and over shoulders and flipping upwards. Once she reached the top, she hung herself upside down by her left leg, stuck her right leg straight out behind her, and arched her spine so she was holding on to her left ankle with both hands and began to spin rapidly while arching her body.  

 

* * *

 

      Joker expected Harley to do well. Harleen had been strong and had good reflexes, her chemical bath only enhanced those features. He’d done some background research on his doctor and knew she had an impressive background in gymnastics and had been a dancer in college, both of which seemed to serve her well. Not to mention that he managed to prod that devious little monster she’d been suppressing out of hibernation (which by itself would have given her a real advantage). In his world, a profound indifference to pain and enjoying violence was a recipe for success. He hated that she took of her shirt but the results spoke for themselves. He had estimated she could take eight or nine of his men on in single combat and there were a few pairs he knew she could beat, but he didn’t think she had the stamina to take on all of them in a row.

      He never expected her to get all ten. Or look so fucking beautiful while doing it. She needed practice and to build up her strength, but her instincts were there. Especially her flips and jumps. Suffice it to say he wouldn’t mind getting a copy of the surveillance tape of her bloody acrobatics leaving bodies in her wake for… personal viewing. And also a copy of whatever the hell it was she was doing on the ropes. Or, better yet, a private performance.

      J adjusted himself discreetly. His men definitely heard Harley the other night, but they didn’t to need to see the details. He emerged from shadows behind the stacked matts where he had been concealed, clapping slowly. His pretty little monster froze mid spin and grinned at him before doing a series of rapid summersaults to the floor. For a second, he thought she was falling which made his stomach jolt in a strange way before he realized she was still holding on to the ropes.

      “Ta-da!” She yelled, landing in a full split with her arms spread wide overhead. J couldn’t help but laugh, was an interesting flexible creature she was… he shook his head to clear his mind before his thoughts sent any more blood south.

      “We have a victor!” He announced loudly, “the one, the only, the infamous- Harley Quinn!” Harley jumped up from her split laughing and bowed to an imaginary audience.

      “Did you see me get em’ Puddin’?” She asked excitedly, bouncing up and down.

      “I did!” He couldn’t remember if he’d ever met someone else who was this giddy about violence. If he had, they hadn’t been a thousandth as interesting.

      “It was so much fun Puddin’” she sighed, pushing her loose hair out of her face. Her hand came away sticky and she looked at it oddly as if she hadn’t noticed she was injured. J could relate, he wasn’t sure how many fights he’d been in only to realize he’d been hurt hours later (it was somewhere between most of them and all of them). She should probably get cleaned up before she crashed but he didn’t really want to tell her to go away yet.

      J had spent the last week trying to distance himself unsuccessfully. He gave up on trying to convince himself to kill her by her second day. Something about her dying didn’t sit right with him. He could still kick her out, but then she’d just follow him around until he gave in again (which he didn’t think would take very long). So, he treated her like any other of his men.

      Well not exactly like his other men. He didn’t order special lessons for his henchmen. Or watch them train. Or order daily progress reports on them. Or occasionally watch them sleep. Or think about them when he was trying to sleep. Or when he was at the club. Or when he was trying to plan a new prank. Or when he was doing nothing in particular. J knew he’d been staring off into space and been silent for a few moments too long but if Harley noticed she didn’t comment. She just kept smiling at him with that big, bloody grin that made him think she was a living masterpiece.

      “Fuck it,” he mumbled. There was no point fighting himself. He didn’t _have_ to be anywhere, and he knew where he _wanted_ to be. The Joker does what he wants, he told himself, and if that just so happens to be with Harley then well everyone else could go suck Batsy’s dick. It was just a normal extension of normal rules. Perfectly reasonable and not at all out of character.

      “Come on Harley, time to patch you up.” He said smoothly, as if he hadn’t been having an internal debate about her. She smiled back as if he just handed her the key to Gotham.

      “M’kay Puddin’, I’ll follow you.” J turned and began walking towards the flight of stairs wondering why his heart was beating so fast and his smile felt oddly relaxed.

      “Get the men fixed up, get rid of the last one, and clean the gym,” J yelled over his shoulder at Tuck, ignoring whatever the feelings he was having were as he walked up the stairs.

      “So, were you gonna kill Tuck or me if I didn’t win?” Harley asked. If had anyone had asked him that question, he would have killed them for being so presumptuous. But this was Harley and she sounded genuinely curious.

      “Tuck,” he said laughing. “He’s useful but not irreplaceable and he needs to be reminded of that every now and then.”

      “Oh, I think he got the message,” Harley giggled, “he looked like he was going to have a heart attack this morning.”

      “Good.” He said, opening the door to Harley’s bedroom. Harley skipped into the bathroom and began poking at her various injuries.

      “I’d tell you to lift your arms up, but I think that would be rather cruel,” he said looking at the bruises blooming around her ribs and shoulder and trying not think about why he cared if she was in pain. “And boring, stay still” he quickly recovered. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a dark green switch blade and slid the knife into her cleavage and slowly cut her sports bra in half.

      “Puddin’” Harley purred, looking up at him with dark eyes. He wasn’t sure who loved watching him cut her clothes off more, Harley or himself. Judging by how quickly she was breathing and the tent in his pants, he wasn’t sure he cared. But he was on a mission and damn it he was going to finish it.

      “Patience, Harley.” He chided teasingly, before kneeling to untie her boots. “Don’t get any ideas,” he winked up at her trying to ignore the submissiveness inherent in his position. It made him feel slightly sick. He quickly took off her shoes but slowly slid his knife down either side of her leggings until they fell to the floor. He had planned to cut her panties off of her but was equal parts delighted and disappointed to find she wasn’t wearing any. He groaned against her hip bone and nipped at the soft flesh of her thigh, she was making it hard to stick to his plan. He stood shaking his head trying to remember where the first aid kit was.

      “I’m surprised you haven’t found this yet.” He said absently, holding up a bottle of cotton candy bubble bath he told Slappy to get. He didn’t tell Slappy that he wanted cotton candy because it reminded him of Harley’s nipples, but he had a feeling the strange man knew anyway.

      “Whatdya got there Puddin’?” She asked over her shoulder. “Oh my god, is that bubble bath? There went my plans for tonight- You know the way right to a girl’s heart don’t ya!” She giggled.

      “Do you know the fastest way to man’s heart?” He asked, smirking.

      “No, what?”

      “Through his ribs!” He cackled.

      “Puddin!” She shrieked, doubling over from laughter. “Ow, fuck” she groaned. “Stop making a girl laugh before she tapes up _her_ ribs!”

      “Oh, Harley if you’re hedging your bets on the Joker stopping making jokes you’ve made a series of very poor life choices!” He laughed before handing her the first aid kit.

      J wasn’t really sure why he was watching her clean and bandage herself up, Harleen had been a doctor. She didn’t need him there making sure she did it right. But he didn’t want her to do it wrong and… well, he wasn’t sure what the problem with that would be. She might end up hurting herself more than necessary but that wasn’t something he would normally care about. When had the Joker ever cared if anyone (himself included) hurt themselves?

      J scowled to himself, looking her over. She had a friction burn that wrapped around her back and side would be a bitch for a week or so, but he wouldn’t mind helping her keep it moisturized (not that rubbing lotion on Harley was exactly altruistic). Nothing needed stiches, but he nodded approvingly as she glued the cut on her temple shut just in case. She’d split most of her knuckle and lost a finger nail, J made a note to himself to find gloves for her that didn’t look stupid before he took her out to play in Gotham.

      “How did you manage to lose the skin on your wrists?” He asked, unable to place that injury in the fight.

      “Oh,” she said dreamily, “from playing on the ropes. I don’t remember how long Harleen did silks for, but they were really fun. Ropes work too but they bruise and burn.” Looking closer J could see the beginnings of bruises snaking around her arms and thighs.

      “We’ll my dear, I think you’ll live.” J pronounced, “Wrap your ribs and bandage your back and you’ll be good as new.”

      “Thanks Dr. J” Harley smiled up at him while applying ointment and wrapping her wrists. There was something strange about someone looking genuinely happy to see him. People were happy when he made them money, or sold them protection, when he gave them what they wanted, or that they survived a meeting. He supposed that Harley wanted to be around him (for reasons he couldn’t begin to understand) so she was kind of getting what she wanted, but it wasn’t exactly the same. She looked at him like he was her fucking lord and savior at times.

      “Role reversal, Miss Quinn? Aren’t you full of surprises.” J chuckled, trying to hide his confusion.

      “Oh, Puddin’ you have no idea.” She giggled while placing a sheet of gauze over the worst of her friction burn.

      “I think after today I’m starting to get an idea. I knew Harleen had it in her if she just stopped playing by her silly little rules. But you, Harley, learned faster than I could have dreamed.” Harley all but glowed at his praise. “Who would have thought my perfect doctor would turn out to be so much fun?”

      “She’s dead.” Harley said, the humor leaving her eyes. “She was boring and now she’s gone.” J was taken aback, not expecting Harley to be so assertive.

      “I can see that.” He murmured with a grin, “you are full of surprises.” Harley was a different beast than Harleen, but he expected her to take longer to admit it. Hold on to pretending that she was one of them for a little while longer. He would never admit it, but he had been wrong about that.

      Stepping forward, J took the bandage from the counter and began wrapping her injured ribs. He had to admit he liked the image. Her standing in front of him, the pink and blue tips of her white hair just covering her nude breasts, her eye liner smeared across her face, her big smudged red smile. He liked how he looked behind her. As he passed the bandage around her front it almost looked like he was embracing her. He stood close enough that when he inhaled his chest brushed her back. He could feel her hair against his face. J ran a finger down her cheek and tilted her head towards his, tempted to kiss her.

  

* * *

 

 

      “Done,” he growled sounding on edge. Harley turned, smiling at her usually unflappable man.

      Harley had no idea why Mr. J was in her being so nice to her, but she loved it. He was so gentle as tucked the edge of the bandage on her good side. His hands came to rest on her hips as he stared at her reflection. Even though the pressure of his shirt stung against her back, she would happily have stand there pressed against her for hours. His hands were magic. But now she wanted his hands somewhere else.

      Harley twisted in his arms and jumped up on to the counter. She spread her legs and pulled him to stand between them before pressing her lips to his teasingly.

      “Does Mr. Boss-Man have anywhere to be or can he spare a minute for his Harley?” She giggled seductively, making J moan.

      “I think you can be penciled in my dear,” he growled back. He tore his shirt open and pulled her body flush to his, kissing her deeply.

      Things escalated quickly. One moment they were kissing. Then he was at her breasts. Then she was panting and moaning and scratching at him. Then he was whispering dirty things in her ear. Then she was pushing his pants down with her feet.

      Somewhere between his boxers falling to the ground and Harley wrapping her legs around him, Harley started hearing Harleen say her name. First it started quietly, in the distance and easy to ignore. As J picked her up and carried her to the bed room it became louder. Once she was lying on the bed with J positioned over her, Harleen’s words became screamed sentences.

      “Harley! Stop! You need to stop!” Harley shook her head, trying to ignore the voice. She rocked her hips against J’s cock, massaging her clit against him.

      “Harley, you haven’t taken the pill since you got here and don’t have a condom. Stop!” Harleen yelled. Harley’s kisses paused for a moment, wondering if that was true, when the Lady’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

      “Harleen, stop being such a buzzkill. She just finished her period. She’s fine. Do it honey! Have some fun,” the lady drawled.

      “Harley, don’t do this.” Harleen said in an unusually nervous voice. Something about her tone more than her words shook Harley out her daze.

      “J, we need to stop” Harley whispered. J didn’t seem to hear her.

      “J?” She asked quietly again but he couldn’t hear her over the thundering of their hearts and gasps for air.

      “J!” Harley said again louder.

      “Yes?” he grunted, not looking up from her breasts as he continued to rub himself against her.

      “Oh, good now I have your attention.” She said sarcastically before yelling, “we don’t have protection!”

      “What?” He asked again, sitting up, obviously confused.

      “We need condoms.” She tried to explain, annoyed by his slowness.

      “Why do-,” J began before Harley interrupted him.

      “What the fuck do you mean why?”

      “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” He said violently raking his hand through his hair in frustration.

      “I haven’t exactly seen much of you the last ten days and somehow it didn’t come up in conversation with Slappy!,” Harley shot back.

      “Such a fucking inconvenience.” He growled, rubbing his face looking like he was thinking very hard.

      “Sorry you’re inconvenienced by the fact I don’t want to start our own damn circus, you fuckwit!” Harley yelled. J stood up, pulled on his pants, and without another word walked out the door.

      “Go fuck yourself Mr. Joker.” She yelled after him.

      Harley wasn’t sure where she was going. Getting, getting out of bed and grabbing a random outfit from her wardrobe. She just didn’t want to be with _him_ right now. Who the fuck did he think he was to tell her she was inconvenient for not wanting to have sex and walk out on her? What the fuck was wrong with him?

      “Do you want me to make a list?” Asked Harleen.

      “Fuck off! Harleen I don’t want to deal with you right now.” Harley snapped, trying not to cry as she stormed down to the room where she and Professor Dementor practiced throwing knives.

      “Well too bad! He’s only around when he wants some, once you don’t give it to him- what reason is there to keep you? He’s not a good person Harley. Why would you think he would be anything other than terrible to you?” Harleen yelled back. The sound hurt Harley’s head.

      “Shut up! Shut up! I know he’s not a good person. I’m not a good person. Neither are you!” Harley held her head in her hands as she doubled over.

      “Look at you Harley! You helped get your co-workers killed in Arkham. You killed a trucker. You seriously hurt the guy who grabbed you when you showed up to the hideout. You probably killed that guy you eye gouged today. You love the violence. You crave it. You’re just a junkie whose only happy when you’re hurting other people!”

      “Don’t pretend you don’t like hurting people too! And other things make me happy.” Harley yelled back, vaguely aware she was crying. “Slappy makes me happy. Puddin’ makes me happy!”

      “Oh, so a mime cosplayer and a clown themed serial killer make you happy?” Harleen spat with obvious disgust.

      “J is nice to me! He got my all those classes so that I would be safe and gives me everything I need.” Harley cried.

      “So he gives you presents and is nice sometimes so it’s all ok? He’s just making you dependent on him.”

      “Shut up! Shut up!” Harley screamed.

      “He doesn’t care about you! He didn’t even bother to really spend time with you for over a week.

      “He cared enough to bring me to ACE and bring me here.” Harley whimpered, “he cares just a little. He’s busy, he runs an empire and he’s been gone for months. He has things to do! Just because he didn’t make time for-” Harleen interrupted her.

      “You’re not even allowed to go anywhere. He’s making you completely dependent on him and isolating you. You’re not even a person to him.” She sneered.

      “He only keeps me inside to keep me safe! I’m a person.” Harley cried, wondering how she ended up on the floor. “He knows I’m a person.”

      “You’re pathetic. You have no self-control. Oh, we might like the same things, you might be doing things I fantasized about. But I was a successful doctor on her way to doing great things. You’re the Jokers little sex doll all alone in a basement, second fiddle to a grown man with a savior complex running around in a bat costume. You’re nothing to him. You’re nothing at all Harley. Nothing.” Harleen yelled.

      “Stop it. I’m not nothing!” Harley yelled, her eyes going wide. “If you don’t shut up I’ll… I’ll” she trailed off and Harleen began to laugh.

      “You’ll what? I’m in your head. I am you Harley. You can’t escape me. You’re still Harleen.” Harley tried to think, what could she do? Harleen might not have a conscience either, but she liked to pretend she did. It made her feel superior to everyone else. A terrifying smile spread across Harley’s face as she stood slowly.

      “The next time you talk, I will burn your old apartment to the ground.” Harley paused before giggling, “Do it! Tell me how pathetic I am again. Tell me how little he cares about me again. Tell me I’m nothing. One more word Harleen, it all goes up in flames. Some people might survive. Most people won’t. It will be on you.”

      “Bullshit. The only reason you’ve done any of this is because Mr. Joker tells you to. You don’t have it in you.” Harleen laughed.

      “You asked for it.” Harley smiled. “You forget Harleen, we were like this before him. He just set me free. You think fucking those men for their money and gifts was the worst we’d do? We have so much more potential, this time it’s your apartment. Next time it will be your college dorm. After that, what do you think of the pediatric psych ward you did your first rotation in?” Harley laughed dangerously as she walked over to the room where Slappy and Discount Guy Fawkes kept their toys. It was time to play.

  

* * *

 

      J wasn’t sure how long he stood in the doorway to Harley’s room there staring at where she had been. He had gone to the storage room where his henchmen used to ‘secretly’ bring prostitutes from the club to see if there was still a box of condoms there. It had been a few months ago, before he had been taken to Arkahm, and he’d killed the men who were bringing strangers into his hideout. But he figured there was a chance there was still a box lying around. He’d been unsuccessful and he had come back to tell Harley, but she was gone.

      One second, he was centimeters from being inside her. He knew she was saying something, but he didn’t know what. He couldn’t think, she was everywhere. She was inside his brain, imbedded in in pores, in his lungs. Then she was mad and he didn’t know why. It all escalated so quickly. His brain was going so slowly, was this what it was like to be a person? Was this what feelings were like?

      Once he understood what was wrong, he felt like an idiot. He hadn’t even thought about protection (obviously). Feeling stupid always made him mad. He was supposed to be the smart one, yet he’d been so fucking oblivious. Why didn’t she tell him that they needed protection earlier? Any one of his men could have taken care of it a week ago. He’d kill them after, but it’s not like they weren’t replaceable. Assuming she ever let him touch her again (which didn’t seem terribly likely at the moment).

      J waited for the urge to kill her to flare up. Or at least urge to hurt her. He was pissed, but he felt something else too. A weird sort of burden like something was wrong. Like he wished he had done something differently than he had. He wasn’t sure what to call it. He’d never felt it before.

      “Fuck, Harley.” He murmured, “You’re ruining me.” He wasn’t sure what he would do when he found her, but he needed to find her. J wasn’t sure why, but he needed to talk to her.

      Storming out the door he randomly selected three henchmen. He told the first one to go get condoms. He told the second one to go find and steal areal silks. He had no idea where he would find them but that wasn’t his problem. He told the third one to kill the first one when he got back and to tell Frost to meet him in his study. Now.

      “Where is she?” He growled at Frost.

      “I don’t know Boss. She isn’t on any of the cameras right now.” Frost responded, ducking to avoid the fourth knife Joker had thrown at the wall behind him. “Give me ten minutes, I’ll rewind the tapes and figure it out.”

      Joker paced back and forth across the study laughing loudly. He didn’t think Harley would leave him over this, but she had called him Mr. Joker and told him to go fuck himself. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened, but he suspected who ever said it was very, very dead. No one talked back to him. No one argued with him. It was hilarious.

      “Hey- Boss?” Frost said, slightly pale and sounding hesitant.

      “What?” Joker snarled back.

      “I know where she is. I’ll get a couple guys and go get her, we’ll be back in less than an hour. But… I think you need to watch this.” Frost got up from the computer quickly and gave the head phones to Joker who quickly sat down.

      “Go,” he said dismissively wondering what could shake his normally stoic second in command. Frost’s detachment was Jokers favorite quality about him, to see him rattled was unusual. He hoped we wouldn’t have to kill him. He didn’t have a solid replacement option. Shrugging, Joker hit play on the composite video Frost had put together for him.

      He could understand why Frost looked the way he did after watching the video. It wasn’t funny, but he couldn’t stop laughing. His laugh sounded odd even to his own ears, too forced. It almost hurt to listen to.

      “Fuck!” He growled, trying to ignore his shaking hands. He was always smooth, he had glib and superficial charm down to an art form. Now he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. Everything was simpler before her. He took off the head phones and tore his knives out of the wall only to throw them across the room into the opposite wall. What the hell was he going to do when she got back? He didn’t even really understand why she was mad. Pouring himself a tumbler full of whisky, he threw himself into a purple alligator leather arm chair.

      Harley looked furious on the monitor when she left the bedroom. He couldn’t tell if she was crying but it seemed likely. As she rounded the corner of the catwalk, he had noticed her flinching before she told Harleen to fuck off. Her voices must have been loud tonight.

      The audio quality wasn’t great but she was yelling loud enough it didn’t really matter. It had been hard to piece together what had been going on at times, but whatever Harleen was saying was obviously touching a nerve. Given that she then started yelling about how he was actually good to her and that he must care, he guessed Harleen was trying to convince her he was the devil himself (which wasn’t far off). He didn’t know that he would use the word ‘care’ (if only because it made him nauseous) but she wasn’t wrong that he was… unusually invested in her wellbeing.

      Something about Harley making excuses for why he wasn’t spending time with her made him feel odd. She was right, he was impossibly busy trying to rebuild his infrastructure that collapsed while he was in Arkahm. But he was avoiding her. Not because he didn’t want to see her, but because she confused him. Just like he had had in her bedroom he couldn’t help but feel he should have done something differently. He didn’t like the new sensation that seemed to have arrived along with Harley Quinn.

      He was most confused about what she meant that he knew she was a person. Technically they were both people, but he wasn’t _really_ a person. J wasn’t sure what being a person meant. He couldn’t remember being one.

      Joker was impressed by her plan. He’d come up with some inspired ideas after nights like the ones Harley was having. But he’d never threatened a voice into silence. There was an argument to be made that she wasn’t sane enough to burn down a building without getting herself killed at the moment but, given that he was still alive, Joker tended to reject that argument. Part of him was proud his little monster was about to commit her first arson.

      But he was also pissed. She disrespected him and broke the rules. Had she been anyone else he would kill her slowly. Burning her would have some poetic irony. But J didn’t want her dead (a confusing idea). That unnamed feeling from her bedroom wouldn’t go away and he felt something else he couldn’t identify. He kept wondering if she was ok and his heart was beating too fast.

      He was on his third drink, still trying to figure out what he was going to do when he heard a knock on his door. Frost entered with a split lip and a rapidly swelling eye followed by two henchmen he vaguely recognized who were carrying an unconscious and bound Harley.

       “I don’t recall telling you to tie her up.” Joker said icily.

      “She was feisty Boss, she got a good punch in on Frost and was making too much noise, so we just kinda assumed that-” the man’s voice cut off with a gurgle and his hands grabbed at his neck which suddenly had a long gold knife imbedded in it.

      “Rule number one, do not assume.” Joker hissed. “Frost untie her. You,” he said looking at the other henchmen and nodding at the corpse, “get that out of here before I decide to kill you too.”

      “Frost?” J asked, in a falsely calm tone.

      “Yes Boss?” Frost responded knowing that the Boss wasn’t nearly as calm as he appeared.

      “I won’t kill you this time. But next time you put a hand on her, I will let her do the honors. Understand?”

      “Yes Boss.” Frost said averting his eyes.

      “Good. Now put the one I didn’t kill in one of the rooms down stairs for Miss Quinn and get the hell out of my sight.” Frost all but ran out of Jokers office. Joker didn’t let other people use his rooms or touch his playthings, but he would make an exception tonight.

      J sat there staring at Harley. She was covered in soot, smelled like gasoline, and her shirt was singed in places. If nothing else, it looked like she had been successful. Her temple wound had broken open and was bleeding again but other than a black eye she didn’t appear to have any new injuries. It made him feel something like relief.

      Sighing, J stood and walked over to her limp body and picked her up. He wasn’t sure how she’d react to waking up in strange place right now and didn’t want to deal with a furious and disoriented Harley. Ignoring the strange looks from his henchmen he passed, J carried her to her bedroom and placed her on her bed to wait for her to wake up.

      About ten minutes later Harley began to moan before shooting up right on to her feet in a defensive position, scanning the area wildly.

      “Sit down.” Joker ordered from the arm chair in the corner of her room. Harley looked confused and then pissed when she realized where she was. For a moment Joker thought she would run out the door again before she crossed her arms and sat on the edge of the bed. “Good girl. Care to explain what extra curriculars you’ve been up to tonight?”

      “You already know. You had your goons-” She began angrily before Joker cut her off dismissively.

      “I told them to go get you, everything else was their idea. I killed one of them, but the other is yours. If Frost does it again, he’s all yours.”

      “Oh, thanks! That makes everything better.” Harley said, exasperated.

      “Don’t get smart with me.” Joker said dangerously, reaching the end of his patience. “Explain what happened.”

      “Oh, you care what I’ve been up to?” Harley laughed humorlessly. “Well, let’s see… I had a great time kicking a bunch of your men’s asses, thanks for springing that on me by the way, before you decided to waltz in. I did everything you asked me to, no matter how dangerous it was for me…”

      “You didn’t enjoy it?” J interrupted, knowing she did and confused as to why it had made her mad.

      “Of course, I did. But that’s not the point you idiot!” She snapped.

      “Then explain,” J growled back. J wasn’t sure why he hadn’t killed her. No one insulted him, no one living anyway, but he was oddly not bothered by the names she had called him.

      “I do whatever you tell me to do, whenever you tell me to do it. I blew up my life and I don’t give even give a shit!” She laughed somewhat hysterically. “Today I decided to actually try to take care of myself.  But no, you decide that’s too much of an inconvenience. Don’t worry, you and Harleen made it loud and clear that I your little toy that you’ll play with when you want to get off and ignore the rest of the time.” Harley threw her hands in the air, looking furious.

      J was silent staring at Harley. He wasn’t sure what he expected her to say. He was somewhat annoyed. If she had just stayed in her room for five minutes more and not thrown her hissy fit he would have been back to explain everything. It hadn’t even occurred to him that she wouldn’t be waiting got him when he got back for looking for condoms. Everyone waited for him. Why did he need to tell her where he was going and why?

      He hadn’t left because he was mad at her for not wanting to have sex with him, but he could understand how she’d come to that conclusion but- fuck thinking about other people’s ‘feelings’ was exhausting. He was bad at it and he didn’t like being bad at things.

      “So you gonna kill me for leaving? If you’re gonna do it get it over with, Joker.” She snarled. J snapped out of his reverie and marched up to Harley and placed his hand over her mouth, his tattoo making it look like she was grinning

      “Are you done with your tantrum?” he asked icily. Harley glared at him defiantly but nodded her head. “Good. No, I am not going to kill you because for some fucking reason I don’t want you dead. If you had stayed in the bedroom for another five minutes I would have told you I had gone to look for condoms. Not having them was inconvenient not you, you impulsive little devil. But, hey, your way was definitely better.”

      “Don’t you lecture me about mature coping mechanisms!” Harley yelled back defensively, looking embarrassed.

      “Says the one that just burned down a fucking apartment because she was mad at me instead of using her big girl words!” He yelled back. Harley began to giggle before breaking down into big, belly laughs.

      “Yeah, I did.” J couldn’t help himself, he was still pissed but he was laughing too. What a pair they made. He carved people apart because she confused him, and she burned down buildings because he pissed her (and Harleen) off.

      “You gotta blow up a few buildings to make a perfect bomb, and this one is very much in development…” He trailed off, coming as close to apologizing as he could. Apology wasn’t in his vocabulary. He thought she understood but it was hard to tell what was going on in Harley’s mind.

       “I’m still mad at you.” She said, looking somewhat pacified.

      “Good. I’m furious at you.” He said back, smiling slightly.

      “Me?” She asked, “why?”

      “Not only are you the most confusing person I’ve ever met, and you left the hideout after I explicitly told you not to- but I didn’t get to see baby’s first fire!” He whined, clearly not truly mad anymore.

      “I’m sure the news will have pictures and I can fill in the rest,” she mock sighed, rolling her eyes.

      “Give me a play by play later,” he said, distracted by how she was hunched against one of the bed poster’s obviously trying to conceal that she was in pain. She’d gotten pretty banged up from training and some of the guys had really done a number on her earlier in the day. He didn’t think his henchmen did any real damage to her when they picked her up tonight, but he wasn’t sure.

      “Did Daddy’s little monster get a booboo?” He asked, not sure where the words were coming from, but feeling an odd combination of pride and something like concern.

      “I don’t know, wanna check?” She asked, smiling up at him tiredly. J walked into the bathroom, turned on the tub, and added bubble bath. Beckoning her over, he placed his hands on her waist.

      “Arms out,” he murmured, cutting her shirt off of her. The bruises she’d gotten over the last ten days were varying shades of purple and yellow with new magenta spots from today’s test. J winced looking at her body. “No more lesson for the rest of the week, cupcake.” He wasn’t sure why looking at her injuries made him uncomfortable, but they did.

      “Ok Puddin’” Harley said looking at his face intently. J wasn’t sure exactly what her expression meant, it was soft and concerned but also sort of happy. Giving up on trying to decode her, J undid her bra.

      “Tip from a professional, don’t wear synthetic fabrics when starting fires.” J said, distracting her, while he ripped her bra strap that had melted to her torso. He kneeled down and pulled off what was left of her short-shorts and undid her boots. “Get in the tub.”

      Harley beamed up at him and stepped into the water. She was obviously uncomfortable, but she seemed happy enough. It took J about thirty minutes to clean her off, during which he had Harley describe in graphic detail her first arson. He actively chose not to think about why he was washing her up and tending to her injuries, only admitting that he wanted to.

      “Are you going to get in with me?” She smiled up at him.

      “And ruin my perfect hair?” He giggled, pointing at his slicked back hair. It took an appalling amount of gel to get it to lie flat and he was not about to have to redo it just to get in a tub with her. “I can be a perfectly good nurse from here thank you very much.” If J had ever washed another person’s hair before it was in his life before ACE and it had long since disappeared from his memory. Harley’s had hair smelled like smoke, gasoline, and was matted with blood but it was shockingly soft, especially given that she had gone for a chemical bath just days before.

      “Well I think that is as good as we’re going to get tonight,” J said smiling down at Harley.

      “I smell better, that’s for sure.” She giggled back from a pile of bright pink bubbles. “Gasoline is kinda messy.”

      “You’ll get better with practice, my little monster.” J laughed. “Now up we go,” he took her hands and pulled her to standing. Harley made a valiant effort at not wincing, but her ribs were an appalling shade of purple.

      Without thinking, J swept his arm under her knees and carried her to the bed. Sitting her on the edge, he slowly tended to each cut and abrasion starting at her temple and ending at a burn on her outer thigh. Kneeling on the floor, J rested his head against her knee. She was always beautiful but having her torn up somehow made her more attractive, more feral. He growled behind closed teeth trying to ignore the swell of her hips, the dip of her waist, the shadow of her breasts over his head, the smell of her sex so close to his face, the tantalizing glimpse of her petals he could see between her legs.

      “She’s injured, leave her alone. You just fought. Be patient.” He chanted in his head, trying to ignore the swelling his pants.

  

* * *

 

 

      Harley bit her lip looking down at her Puddin’. He came close to apologizing as he was going to and he obviously understood he had been an asshole. She wasn’t really mad at him anymore, especially since he rubbed her down so carefully and tended to her boo-boos. He was a hard man to understand but she always liked a challenge.

      Like not shoving his face into her pussy. That was a fucking hard one when his face was so close, and she could feel his breath dancing over her folds. His hands began to rub over her hips, massaging her thighs lightly. Harley couldn’t imagine J doing something so servile. Only one of the men she’d been with had so much as tried and he’d complained about it for weeks after. She dumped him as soon as he’d transferred ownership of the car he’d bought for her and never looked back once.

      She tried to control her breathing, not let her arousal get the best of her. But the adrenaline from the fire, the unresolved sexual tension from earlier in the day, and his close attention to her body was driving her insane. J’s fingers tightened reflexively around her hips, his nails digging in to the skin forcing a moan out of Harley’s lips. Her legs spread unconsciously as she lost control of her measured, even breathing.

      J’s head snapped up, a broken groan escaping his lips as he stared at her. He stood slowly, picking her up by the hips and lying her on the bed. He delicately hovered over her, pausing as if to figure where he could rest his body without hurting her. He finally settled between her legs, bracing his torso so it hovered over her.

      Harley couldn’t breathe. The intensity in his gaze made her pussy spasm without him so much as laying a hand on her. He maintained eye contact as he slowly lowered his lips to her stomach, one hand gripping her hip. His tongue slid out to dip in the hollow of her belly button and trace a few delicate swirls, causing her muscles to quiver and her to let out an aroused giggle. J moved his free hand to the curve of her waist and traced the roundness of her hips, caressing and kneading her flesh carefully so as not to hurt her bruised skin.

 

* * *

 

      J wasn’t sure what had gotten into him, but the softness of her naked skin intoxicated him, pulling him down lower and lower towards her inviting warmth. If he had done this before the memory was long gone but Harley had sparked a hunger that he didn’t know he had. A hunger that was only made sharper by the heady scent that had called to him since he kneeled at her feet that begged him to taste her. He unzipped his fly, allowing his painfully hard erection to spring free while he fought his need to groan from her slightly musky, sweet scent.

      “J,” Harley gasped, looking down at him with dark eyes. “Please,” she begged, before her head dropped back with a groan.

      “You’re intoxicating.” He muttered against her skin, surprised by how rough his voice sounded.  His hands seemed to move of their own volition, trailing down her thighs teasingly and urging her to part her legs before him.

      He had seen her vagina before, obviously. But he was too drunk on lust and caught up in the moment to appreciate what he was looking at. He knew he had liked what he had seen, but now he was fucking entranced. Her swollen pink fold glistened with her excitement that had trickled out of her clenched hole and down her thighs. Her little clitoris was just peeking out of the hood, puffed up and eager for his touch.

      J groaned, resting his forehead against her mons and inhaling her scent, wondering if she tasted as good as she looked and smelled. He couldn’t wait to find out. Slowly, he lowered his face to her core and pressed a close-mouthed kiss to her clitoris. Somewhere above him, he heard Harley gasp and he could feel her thighs tighten around his shoulders.

      With his left hand, J spread her folds completely to see her glazed flesh. She looked like someone had iced her pussy and a trail of her juices were trickling down onto the bed. Lowering his face again with a growl, J licked the length of her pussy from perineum to clit. He pressed his tongue over her clit, drawing it slowly up and down over the sensitive nub.

      Harley’s hips jolted, her pussy clenching against his face as another rush of juices trickled out. Drunk on her, J thrust his arms under her thighs and hooked her knees over his shoulders to anchor her closer to his mouth. She began rocking unsteadily against his face, desperate for more. He’d never wondered what pussy tasted like before or really had any interest in trying it out, but he was rapidly becoming addicted to Harley’s nectar.

      Mindful of the hardness of his grill, J tugged gently on her labia and flicked his tongue up to her clit and back. He could hear Harley moaning and whining each time he traced over her clitoris and gasping when he thrust his tongue into her tight hole.

      “Uh!” Harley gasped in reaction to J’s tongue probing her depths. He searched out her arousal, thrusting in and out of her passage. J growled against her, noting how she jumped from the vibration. Doubling his efforts, J ran his tongue along her slit as she began to rock against his face. His tongue pressed against her spasming walls, caressing her depths and rubbing against the spongy place that she liked so much her first night.

      Harley’s hips rocked faster, almost humping his face in desperation. J moved his hands from her ass where he’d been kneading her flesh to her hips, holding her still with bruising force. His man-handling only made her wetter as another rush of juices gushed against his face and her cries went up another octave.

      “Is this what you wanted?” J gasped, unable to stop himself. “Did Daddy’s Little Monster need this?” Any more words he planned to say dissolved into a groan as he dove back into her wetness, flicking his tongue more insistently against her clit.

      “Yes!” Harley cried back, “I needed it! Please!” J looked up at her, marveling at how the swells of her breasts jumped with her agitated rocking. Her cheeks were blazing with arousal and her eyes were dark. She propped herself up on her elbows to stare at him, only to drop her head backwards with a small shout. Her new position pressed her tits out even more, making their bouncing more pronounced.

      J couldn’t help but rock his hips against the mattress. Her taste and cries were overwhelming him, he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. He sucked her clit into his mouth and ran his tongue along the seam where her nub stuck out from behind it’s hood.

      “Yes!” Harley screamed, “just like that. Please!” She collapsed back on to the bed. Her hands embedded themselves in his hair while she pulled her legs back to give him even more access to her dripping folds. J’s hands moved from her hips back to her ass to pull her flesh closer to his face.

      J could feel her thighs shaking against his ears as her broken cries grew louder and closer together. Reluctantly letting go of her ass with one hand, J pressed his fingers to her passage and began massaging the spongy spot just beyond her entrance while increasing the suction on her clitoris.

 

* * *

 

            Harley was overwhelmed. He was everywhere. Doing delicious things to her clit. Playing at her G-spot like a fucking maestro. Kneading her ass in a way that alone would have made her pussy flood the room.

            J’s growls and grunts against her flesh grew louder. The vibrations of his vocalizations somehow made the contact even more intense, more consuming. Her stomach was clenching and unclenching along with her thighs and toes. Harley was outside her body, consumed by pleasure, completely unaware of her gasps and shouts.

            Picking her head up, the sight of J’s green hair between her thighs was almost enough to make her come. Her walls were pulsing around his fingers and her hips were losing all sense of rhythm.

            “J!” She screamed, overwhelmed by her imminent release. His tongue seemed to have a life of its own, pressing harder and rubbing in firm circles around her clit. Her thighs were clenched painfully tight and her core was throbbing, desperately craving release.

            J lifted his eyes to stare at Harley over her mound. Harley gasped at the passion in his eyes, making her head drop back again. Just before her eyes rolled to the back of her head, she caught sight of his golden grill scraping against her swollen clitoris.

            “Puddin’!” Harley screamed, shattering. Her back arched sharply as her hips danced in concert with her climax. She could feel her pussy clenching around his fingers and gushing against his face while she moaned wildly.

            When it finally tapered off, Harley’s hands petted J’s head while she gasped for air. J rose over her body slowly, his face glistening, crawling to the place next to where she lay. Rolling over drowsily, Harley smiled at him. She was satisfied but the anxious tingling between her legs was still there, simmering and waiting for more. Needing J.

            “Puddin’, that was amazing.” She groaned pressing her sweaty forehead against his pectoral. He chuckled low in his chest as her praise and rubbed his hand down her side. Harley reached to tangle her hand his hair and pull him down to kiss her but flinched as she twisted. J frowned convulsively, looking at her swollen side.

            “Did I hurt you?” He asked in a blank tone.

            “Did I sound hurt to you?” She giggled.

            “They don’t sound that different.” He chuckled back distractedly, still examining her wounds.

            “Well, let me educate you,” she purred reaching for his swollen and dripping cock. J’s hand rested on her wrist to pause her. “Please Puddin’,” she moaned, winding her legs around his waist. She might have just come but she wasn’t done yet. She needed more and, blessedly, didn’t have to wait long. “Get a condom and get inside of me. I need you.”

 

* * *

 

 

            J got up and walked to the doorway where is messenger boy had left his goods. He tore open one of the boxes as he walked back to Harley’s prone form. Eating her out had been some kind of spiritual fucking experience that made him harder than he had ever been. By the time he was kneeling on the bed he was already rolling on the condom with practiced hands from memories he was unable to recall.

 

* * *

 

            Harley held her breath, she’d been imaging this for so long. Harleen had fantasized about this for months and burned through more than one vibrator in the process and now it was going to come true.

            J lined himself up with what Harley thought might be shaking hands and thrust into her with a single brutal motion. Both of them cried out desperate for more. J froze between her legs, eyes closed with his lip between his teeth.

            “Don’t move.” He grunted, looking focused. Harleen would have been disappointed if her lover came so soon but Harley couldn’t help but feel like a fucking goddess, her pussy threatened to shatter the all-powerful Mr. J. She still very much wanted to come but the idea of J losing control… Harley moaned and clenched around his length.

            “Fuck.” He gasped, his hips starting to rock against her.

            “Please, J. More!” Harley gasped, intentionally clenching her muscles around him. She could tell he wouldn’t last long tonight and wanted to increase her pleasure while she could. Something broke in J as a lusty groan escaped his lips. “Stop holding back, give it to me J. Give it all.” She groaned, flexing her hips at him.

            J’s slow rocking thrust that filled her deliciously started to speed up until he was pounded against her at a relentless pace, bottoming out each time. She couldn’t tell if it was intentional, but his increased speed changed his angle, so he was rubbing up against her G-spot with every thrust making each one more and more delicious. But the rotation of his hips had taken pressure of her clit, making Harley squirm restlessly trying to find friction.

            “Touch yourself, pet” He ground out between clenched teeth as if he had read her mind. Harley must have taken too long to move (it’s hard to think when the man who possessed her was finally between her thighs) because he growled, “now!”

            Harley moaned in responses. Her fingers danced over her clitoris pushing her closer to the edge, she could feel herself clenching around his pitoning length and hear her pussy getting louder. She wasn’t going to last much longer, especially if he kept hitting that place his fingers had curled against relentlessly while he had eaten her. It was for the best, Harley smiled to herself, she could tell he was close too.

            Looking up at him, she could see him fighting to hold on and suppress any noise he wanted to make. His biceps and abs were flexing with each powerful thrust as he pulled back on her hips for leverage. His eyes were fucking piercing, alternating between staring at the place their bodies joined and at her face. She hoped he liked what he saw because she didn’t think she’d seen anything more beautiful than him buried inside of her.

            “Fuck!” he gasped as Harley’s muscles twitched in warning around him. Her keening was almost non-stop now. She could feel her arousal dripping down onto the mattress and hoped that J wouldn’t mind the waterworks that were about to happen. After all, it was his fault she was falling apart at the seams.

            “Please, let me come!” She begged, not knowing why she was asking him but refusing to come until her told her too.

            “Yes, Harley” he groaned, “come for Daddy.” He pushed up from his elbows to his hands, allowing his thrusts to come harder and faster as her fingers flew in small circles over her clitoris.

            “Yes! Puddin’- fuck I’m gonna” Harley’s voice cut off with a high pitch grunt as she began to come. Harley couldn’t remember if Harleen had ever come that hard but figured she probably couldn’t. This kind of all-consuming release required complete submission to the madness pumping through her veins. It was fucking glorious. She could feel herself gushing around him and would have been able to hear the loud squishing noises each of his final thrusts made if she hadn’t been screaming so loudly.

            Her scream had tapered off into quiet moans just in time for her to see Mr. J’s head drop to his chest. He pushed himself as deep as he could before losing all rhythm and frantically thrusting against her.

            “Mine,” he grunted, giving into the blissful moments before release. She thought she heard him grunt out her name but couldn’t be sure.

            “That’s right, Pudin’, I’m all yours.” She crooned, scratching her nails down his back and embedding them on his ass. Seconds later a broken sounding moan escaped his contorted lips as he froze against her, thrusting almost imperceivably as he came.

            The two froze for a moment panting against each other. J slowly pulled out, both of them groaning at the sensation, and quickly removed the condom, tying off the end and throwing it somewhere over his shoulder before collapsing onto the bed.

 

* * *

 

             The two silently stared at each other for a moment, their legs still intertwined. Eventually, J lifted his head and trailed his hand down Harley’s cheek to rub over her lips lightly. She smiled up at him, obviously content in their silence. J cleared his throat and began to speak.

            “Once you’re better we can have all the fun we want, cupcake. And as soon as you can walk around without trying not to wince, you’re welcome to go out and practice whatever you want on Gotham. Just let me know before you go. If you’re planning on having fun that could attract Batsy bring a few of my friends with you just in case.” J said hoping she understood what he was saying.

            “You mean I can go do whatever I want?” She asked, perking up from her post-orgasmic stupor.

            “You still need to practice with Tuck every day once your better, but you can take care of yourself. It seems a shame to keep you to myself. Gotham needs to be introduced to Harley Quinn.” He giggled back, glad she understood.

            “When can I be introduced to your club?” She asked looking excited.

            “Not yet.” J winced.

            “Why not?” She whined. He shouldn’t be surprised she would want to come. She wanted to be around him and he was there most nights. She would love it there, there were so many people to play with. But shit happened so often, people got shot, beaten, or stabbed a couple times a week.

            “You can handle yourself well enough to come and go as you please, a little more training and you can start coming to the club. I am unusually invested in your wellbeing, and…” he began.

             “If I’m such a liability why even keep me here?” She asked looking confused. He could tell she was happy that he ‘cared’ about her wellbeing but couldn’t understand why he would bother to keep her. Honestly, he couldn’t either.

            “Because…” he paused in confusion, “I want you here.”

 

 

 


	3. Balancing Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley felt like she was floating. The adrenaline of the heist was pumping through her veins and she couldn’t stop grinning. Any ideas about the future were hazy and hard to think about, though. When she saw J the adrenaline had blurred her judgment she launched herself at him. He rarely touched her in front of the men, but she couldn’t stop herself, she was too excited to have pulled the heist off and too happy to see him. Thankfully J didn’t seem phased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my readers! Thanks for coming back to chapter three. This one is only half the length of the last one, but I hope you’ll find it very satisfying ;). Harley gets up to her first major prank and Mr. J is introduced to the idea of someone taking care of him. 
> 
> Songs: Wicked Ones - Dorothy; Bad Things – Jace Everett; God is a Woman- Ariana Grande; Staring Role- Marina and the Diamonds; Is there Somewhere- Halsey

       The next month was blur. Harley still trained hours a day and she had gone out on the town with J for a few minor deadly pranks, but their mornings were something special. Every night before he left for the club she would beg to go with him but he’d wave her off and say she wasn’t ready yet. He spent most mornings with her- he never slept over but that didn’t mean they didn’t have a couple hours of fun.

       Tonight however, Joker was in a bad mood. The man he had met with that night was supposed to boost his coke supply by almost ten percent tried to back out of their deal at the last minute and was going to go work for the Chechen mob. The idiot looked like he’d come straight from the set of a 1950’s gangster movie and seemed to think he was too valuable to kill. He wasn’t, obviously, but he was going to be annoying to replace.

       Joker was feeling twitchy, he’d been stuck doing boring little crimes with boring little people like the central-casting mobster since Harley had joined the crew. He hadn’t done anything enough to get Batsy’s attention in weeks. The flying rodent was going to forget about their little game and think that the Joker was losing his grip of the city. Joker normally didn’t read the paper, but he wanted to know what Batsy had been up to and his special friend usually he graced the first few pages. But today some art critic was featuring a traveling exhibition of court portraits from around the world and some special collection of coronations opening in the Gotham Museum of Art that weekend. Joker wasn’t sure if he was more annoyed that Batsy hadn’t been out to play or that some stupid art exhibit was on the first page of the stupid newspaper. The only King Gotham should even be thinking about was him, he crossed his arms and pouted.

       Suddenly, he jumped from his seat to pace his office. Gotham needed to be reminded who was in charge and his men could do with some cash to supplement their loyalty. They were getting antsy with the small-scale heists and deals they’d been doing the month since Harley joined them. J paused, it would be a good time to take Harley out on the town. She’d been training hard and took to his life style like a fish to water (or like a clown to a vat of chemicals). Worst case scenario she got killed and things would go back to normal. He frowned at the twisting feeling he got in his gut he got whenever he thought about her getting killed and began to pace again.

       She would be fine, he reassured himself, museum heists were more of logistical nightmares than anything else. It wouldn’t be violent enough to attract Batsy’s attention and they would be long gone before the police showed up. Harley would be nervous but once she relaxed, she would see how fun it was. She’d had a good time burning down her apartment and loved going on her ‘shopping trips.’ Other than when she was with him, she was happiest playing with her toys or his men. J smiled, he would bet his favorite Corvette she’d be grinning ear to ear within ten minutes of getting to the museum. Picking up his cellphone as he walked out the door, J dialed Frost’s number.

       “Frosty, we have a date tomorrow night at the art museum. Give Harley the reigns on this one but make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid. Call our friend on the inside and let Ed know we’ll have about 20 high notoriety pieces for him to sell.” J paused and grinned to himself, he could use a little fun. “Get Slappy to print out 20 of my headshots and bring epoxy.” He flipped the phone closed without bothering to hear Frosts response and returned it to his pocket.

       He wasn’t really thinking about where he was going or why, but he wanted to tell Harley about his newest idea and let her know about her first adventure. It was strange to want to be around someone let alone want to tell someone his plans. Since their fight he’d made a point of spend a couple of hours every day with her which was oddly pleasant. He probably wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t want to, but it was strange to do something to make another person happy. It certainly wasn’t altruistic, speeding around Gotham with her in the passenger seat or watching her play on the silks or lying in her bed wasn’t exactly a sacrifice. It was just out of character.

       Choosing to push the confusing subject of Harley Quinn from his mind, he opened the door to her room. She was waiting in bed with a hand-held mirror inches from the face twisting this way and that trying to see the top of her head. Her current pretzeled position made her breasts almost pop out of one of the new sets J assumed she’d gotten while on a shopping rampage with Slappy.

        “What are you doing?” He asked, smirking at the odd position he found her in.

       “I’m trying to see if my hair is growing out or not. The goo from ACE obviously bleached me, but I can’t tell if the white hair thing is permanent.”

       “Do you not like it?” He asked, strangely bothered that she didn’t like her new look as much as he did.

       “No, I love it! It would just be a pain in the ass to bleach my roots to this color every few weeks.” She responded leaning in towards the mirror again. “But I don’t see any roots yet so maybe I’ll get lucky and this is permanent. Has everyone else turned out like this?” She asked absently.

       “Everyone else?” J asked distractedly.

       “Everyone else whose gone for a swim at ACE.”

       “You’re looking at everyone.” He responded without thinking.

       “Really?” She asked, wide eyed and staring at him. J froze, swearing internally. He didn’t mean for her to know that, it gave her too much power. She probably assumed he’d done this before or that there had been others like her. She was smart enough to know that he wouldn’t keep someone around who hadn’t gone for a swim.

       “Yup,” he said smoothly, as if he had intentionally told her that and that he wasn’t panicking about it even a little bit. “I’m not sure how many years it’s been since I went for a swim, but this hasn’t changed,” he pointed to his vibrant green hair. “You may just be in the clear.”

       “Well it’s my lucky day,” she smiled up at him and sat up on the edge of her bed. She was a good liar, but J could see how hard it was for her to pretend to be calm after his accidental admission. “I picked up some dye on my little outing that matches these just in case,” she said wiggling the tips of her pigtails at him.

       “It’s a good thing you don’t need to redo it just yet, you have bigger fish to fry the next couple nights.”

       “Oh? Care to share with the class.” She grinned up at him.

       “Daddy has a little job he wants done tomorrow night and you’ve been studying so hard that I’m going to put you in charge. The art museum is having a show of some boring old kings that you and Frosty are going to go get.” He smiled down at her, watching her face closely.

       “Really?” She asked sounding disbelieving.

       “Of course, cupcake. You know what you’re doing, and don’t you think we should remind Gotham who the only important king is?”

       “Of course I do Puddin’, I just,” she began uneasily before trailing off. Her eyes were huge and she was nervously bouncing on the bed.

       “Shush, you’ll do fine. Besides, who better to make off with court paintings than my little jester?” He smiled dangerously, “You’ll be fine. My men have done this a million times and you’ve been studying so hard, it’s time for a little practical.”

       “I know,” she smiled back. “If I haven’t figured out how to break into a building by now, there’s no hope for me.”

       “And it will be funny!” He giggled. “Just imagine their faces when everyone shows up to work tomorrow and instead of their stuffy old paintings there are pictures of yours truly all over their walls.”

       “Puddin’!” she gasped looking shocked, “are you serious?”

       “Yup!” He cackled, doubling over. Harley couldn’t help herself, beginning to giggle before busting out in deep belly laughs.

       “That’s so fucking perfect,” she gasped between chuckles.

       “I know!”

       “How do you even come up with this stuff?” She asked, gasping for air.

       “I’m an artist.” He said sarcastically, flopping onto her bed and pulling her into his lap and kissing her deeply.

 

* * *

 

  

       She’d been a nervous wreck since J told her about the heist. Harley finally managed to get to sleep around 4 PM only to wake up at 8 PM and had been bouncing off the walls since. Guys had been reluctant to touch her since she beat the shit out of them a few weeks ago (well that and having the boss paying attention to her). But she’d come down to the main room of the hideout at 9 and insisted some one play with her until a couple of them got annoyed enough to _want_ to hit her.

       Frost had looked at her sympathetically but told her he liked his ‘nads where they were thank-you-very-much when she’d asked him to play. He told her he could remember his first heist and he’d been scared shitless before it. Harley responded that she wasn’t scared (she just felt like she couldn’t breath and wanted to crawl out of her skin) and stomped out of the room to go find someone else.

       Harley was hanging upside down on her new silks, spinning over the pile of bodies she’d left behind. No one was dead, most had already shuffled out of the room, but a few people were unconscious or too injured to get up. Slowly pulling her leg over her head and leaning back further, she giggled anxiously. She couldn’t help herself.

       As a kid she’d stolen what she needed when she was hungry (and a few extra things just for fun). As a teen she’d stolen clothes and jewelry to replace her shabby clothes and help cement her place in the social hierarchy. In college and med school she’d convinced men to give her gifts to keep her afloat and well taken care of. A couple years ago she got a man to buy her a car, but she sold it when she moved to Gotham. She hadn’t really stolen anything of value since staring work at Arkham. She definitely had never stolen a painting, let alone one worth millions of dollars.

       “Harley?” Frost called from outside the gym. “It’s time.” Harley spun herself out of Frost’s view, swallowing hard and scrunching her eyes closed before plastering a big smile on her face and flipping to the floor.

       “Finally! I was getting so bored.” She moaned, skipping to the door. “Ooh! Is that a present?”

       “The boss got you a few things.” He told said, passing her a medium sized duffle bag. “Once you’re ready meet us at the loading dock.” Frost smiled at her grimly before turning and walking out.

       Still grinning widely until Frost was out of sight, Harley kneeled on the floor and unzipped the bag. Her fake smirk turned into a genuine smile as she looked at the costume her Puddin’ had put together for her. There was a pair of dark pants made of a material she couldn’t quiet identify, it looked like leather but it was soft and stretchy enough to allow her to move around. The top bustier was made of a similar material. It had a thick leather halter top to hold it in place and dark metallic grommets holding it closed in a line down the centered front. The top divided into two panels by the line of grommets with one dark red side and one black side with dark red harlequin diamonds over the breast.

       Under the clothing there was a thick leather belt with two gun holsters and several places to store knives. In the holsters were two customized guns covered in harlequin diamonds and an inscribed safety reading ‘love’ and ‘hate.’ Harley smiled, knowing that J probably designed the guns himself.

       Quickly stripping, Harley pulled on her new outfit. The material was obviously expensive and clearly custom made. Puddin’ loved luxury and it made her feel special that he felt the need to extend the same luxury he normally reserved for himself to her. Harley was tying on the pair of high healed combat boots with toes sharpened to a deadly point when J walked in.

       “Well, well, well look at you all ready to play.” He purred.

       “Puddin’, this is amazing.” Harley smiled up at him, almost overwhelmed by his gifts.

       “Your first little adventure is a special occasion and you needed something special for it.” He smiled back looking an odd combination of smug and unsure. Harley tried to think of something clever to respond with but the idea of her first heist made it hard to be witty.

       “Now, now cupcake- aren’t you excited? Think of how fun it will be to be in charge of the men I’m sending with you. Those tough boys all piss and vinegar ready to heed your beck and call. You can do whatever you want- And you get to play a little trick on our patrons of our fine city’s arts! Does that sound like fun?” J asked, placing his hand under her chin so she would look at him.

       “Of course, it sounds like fun Puddin’,” Harley rolled her eyes, “it’s funny as hell. I’ve just never stolen anything this expensive or that was this complicated to go get.” J looked at Harley closely, trying to determine what she wasn’t saying. Harley knew J hadn’t spent much of his life caring about what other people thought or wanted but it still sometimes surprised her how much she confused him. “I wanna do it and I’m excited, I’m just scared I’ll fuck it up.”

       “Easy then, just don’t fuck up.” He smirked back, moving his hand from her chin to her cheek, seemingly amused by her response. Harley laughed and punched him in the shoulder.

       “You’re an ass.” She mumbled running her fingers through his hair.

       “And you like it.” He growled back, wrapping his free arm around her waist and pulling her to his body.

       “Fuck knows why.” She whispered against his lips before pressing her lips against his. The two seemed to get lost in each other for a minute. Harley’s hands were buried in his hair, her face leaning into the hand he’d left on her face. After a few minutes, Harley pulled away and buried her face in the crook of J’s neck.

       “Just… don’t fuck up.” He said seriously looking into the distance over her shoulder. Harley looked up at his face and read something akin to concern in his eyes and a furrow between his absent brows.

       “I won’t Puddin’. Now, the sooner I go the sooner I can come back and thank you properly for all these nice presents.” Smirking back up at him, she pushed a few strands of hair from his forehead. She stood on her tippy-toes to kiss him on the cheek before walking out of the room. His eyes didn’t leave the spot she had been standing until long after she had left the room.

 

* * *

 

       J waited in his office pacing listening to the bugs he had placed in Frost’s phone. Harley’s plan had been fairly textbook and she had his inside man. There was no reason to be so preoccupied by her little adventure.  But even as he listened to their getaway car get off the freeway and begin the winding backroads to the hideout, he couldn’t help but distractedly doodle spiraling patterns of lines into his desk with one of his many knives.

       He had been oddly preoccupied by Harley’s feeling that evening. While he had accepted that he didn’t want her dead, injured, in pain, or delusional the idea of wanting her happy was still a strange concept. Her obvious anxiety hadn’t been funny. J knew she would eventually calm down and love it, she enjoyed arson, grand theft, and most forms of physical violence. Dr. Quinzell had always tried to frame her interest in his ‘extracurricular activities’ in professional terms but never really succeeded. Harley just needed to transition her old self’s morbid, jealous curiosity into embracing the world she always wanted.

       Having her try to comfort him was almost comical. He, who until very recently been completely unconcerned with anyone’s wellbeing. Now his ex-psychiatrist turned killer jester had taken root in his mind and was making him all too human.

       He was broken out of his reverie by a loud beep from a siren on the wall of his office announced that cars were entering the basement of the building. Pausing by the door, he raked his hands through his hair to push it back in place and reapplied his dark red lipstick. No one needed to know how shaken the Joker was. He turned on his heal and walked out the door of his office to the stairs leading up from the garage to await the return of his girl and their haul.

       “Puddin’!” A voice called from the base of the stairs. Before J could brace himself, all five foot nothing of his blond jester launched herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck and legs around his waist. J stumbled into the wall behind him, almost falling over trying to regain his balance.

       “How did it go?” He asked, grinning down at her. He hadn’t heard anything that worried him, they had killed a few security guards and dressed them up in clown costumes (a nice touch from Harley, he had to admit) but nothing too surprising had happened.

       “You don’t know?” She smirked at him before learning in close to his ear and whispering, “am I supposed to pretend you weren’t listening through Frosts phone the whole time?” J raised a naked brow, impressed. Even Frost didn’t know his phone was bugged.

       “Well done my perceptive little monster.” He purred, “now let’s leave the boring work of unloading the goodies to the boys.” Still carrying her, J walked back to the stairs and up to her room. Harley giggled the whole way, shifting in his arms in a way J could only describe as supremely distracting. He was already half hard from the way her breasts felt crushed against his chest and her breath against his neck. Now the way her hips were rolling against him had him straining against the fabric of his dress pants.

* * *

Harley felt like she was floating. The adrenaline of the heist was pumping through her veins and she couldn’t stop grinning. She wasn’t sure she liked shooting people, it was so detached and kind of boring compared to fights. But dressing the guards up as clowns and placing them under the pictures of J had been hilarious. The men had looked at her like she was crazy when she told them to strip the guards and put them in costume (which to be fair she kind of was) but they listened. Just like J had told her they would. At least for the night, the men were hers. She couldn’t wait to see the news tomorrow. Gotham didn’t know she had done it, they would just assume it was the Joker, but she had some ideas of how she could make her grand entrance that J would love. For now letting him have all the glory suited her just fine.

            Any ideas about the future were hazy and hard to think about, though. When she saw J the adrenaline had blurred her judgment. He rarely touched her in front of the men, but she couldn’t stop herself, she was too excited to have pulled the heist off and too happy to see him. And the man didn’t have a shirt on for fucks sake, how was she supposed to keep her hands off of him? Thankfully J didn’t seem phased, he seemed as happy as he ever got to see her.

            Giggling madly, she placed a kiss on his neck and pressed her body into him. She could feel him reacting under her as he carried her up to her room. She couldn’t help but remember a poem she’d read back in graduate school. They’d been doing a unit on hybristophilia and had been talking about Félix a du for a couple weeks. Harleen had ended up doing a case study on Bonnie Parker and her how her attraction to Clyde was intertwined with his criminality. While researching Bonnie she’d stumbled on a poem that she’d written in jail that had seemed insane to Harleen at the time but made all the sense in the world to Harley now (and kind of wanted tattooed across her back). Bonnie had written, “ _Then I left my old home for the city… There I fell for the line of a henchman, a professional killer from Chi; I couldn't help loving him madly, for him even now I would die. One year we were desperately happy; our "ill gotten gains" we spent free; I was taught the ways of the underworld. Jack was just like a god to me.”_  

            “Behave, little monster.” J growled at her playfully.

            “Or what?” She purred, grinning up at him, continuing to rock her hips against him. J groaned low in his throat as he kicked the door to Harley’s bedroom open. She smirked, it was almost serendipity that Bonnie’s fictional Jack’s name was so close to her J’s name. She would gladly spend their ill-gotten gains on all kinds of toys with her God whom she loved madly.

            “I’ll do this.” He said, pushing her against the wall and kissing her hard. The tension that had been brewing since the morning built to a crescendo of lips and teeth and tongue. Harley moaned behind closed lips before pulling away and smirking.

            “Then I would be forced to do this.” She quipped, locking one foot behind his knee while the other shoved off the wall. J stumbled backwards as Harley pushed him back onto the bed and all thoughts of poems or psyco-babble disappeared. Smiling down at him from her place atop his waist, she began to sensually sway her hips, tracing her hands up her torso, cupping her breasts, trailing her fingers over her neck, and running her fingers into her hair. She quickly removed her hair ties and shook her long white hair over her shoulders. Her fingers wove through her hair and back over her torso and to the series of grommets holding her bustier together. Slowly while continuing to rock over her stunned lover she undid each row, holding the top closed until she reached the bottom before pealing the fabric up slowly.

            “Then I would gleefully concede defeat.” J muttered, his voice hoarse and eyes locked on her newly exposed breasts. Harley giggled, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

            She knew she was pretty, she’d used it to her advantage enough times in the past. She learned young that sex was a weapon that was either used against you or a weapon you used against others. J was something different. He was immune to her games in Arkham and, if anything, found Dr. Quinzell obnoxious. Harleen had caught his attention but he wasn’t caught in her web until he’d stripped her back to her most primal, fucked up self.

            “What are your terms of surrender?” J growled up at Harley, his fingers curling around her hips. Harley smirked down at him, wondering just how much her clown would let her get away with. He always got to call the shots in the bedroom but tonight that wasn’t going to happen. She was going to show him just how she worshiped at his alter tonight.

      “You are going to lie there, Puddin’” she purred leaning forward, letting her breasts run along his exposed chest. “You’re going to be a good boy and let Harley take the reins.” She nipped his ear before trailing kisses down his jaw.

            “You drive a hard bargain.” J said in a cautious, mocking voice Harley had rarely heard directed at her since moving into the hideout. She’d come to associate it with him feeling off balance or surprised, usually when someone gave him bad news. But tonight, Harley was going to show him just how good-news she could be, even if the idea made him anxious.

            “I think you’ll find it to be a mutually satisfying one,” she giggled. She allowed her kisses to trail across his chest, slowly dragging her body down his and biting the sensitive stretch of skin next to his hip bone. “I won’t hurt you.”

 

* * *

 

            J couldn’t tell if he wanted to run from the room and or stay and wait and see where this was going. The idea of letting someone else have control, no matter how little, made him feel sick. But, at the same time, Harley’s lips, tongue, and teeth against his abdomen were making him grind his teeth to stop himself from moaning.

            J was pulled out of his rapidly snowballing series of questions and concerns when Harley’s settled herself between his legs and unzipped his dress pants with her teeth. Her fingers trailed up his sides and scraped back down, leaving a wake of red fingernail marks behind them. Looking up at him with those big fucking eyes, Harley rested her hands on his hips and unbuttoned his pants.

            It was almost funny how his penis seemed to try to escape his trousers, as if it was spring loaded and waiting to be released. Harley’s eyes grew dark as she inspected his member, her hand running up and down his shaft. J couldn’t breathe. If he opened his mouth, he would moan or say something and that was too much power to give her. She already had too much power over him. Then she leaned forward and licked him from base to tip.

            Any restraint he had vaporized. Throwing his head back, J let out a long groan as his fingers buried themselves in Harley’s hair. Her tongue trailed up his member, flicking at his frenulum and circling around his tip making his cock jump violently. Without warning, she took his tip into her mouth and began to suck gently. Relaxing her jaw, Harley took him deeper into her mouth until he felt the tightness of her throat.

            J gritted his teeth and bit his tongue trying to choke back any noises. Harley’s tongue was driving him insane(er). It was everywhere, lapping at his shaft, flicking into his slit, pressing him against the roof of her mouth, rolling around his tip as she relentlessly sucked at him. It was too much, too good. All of a sudden, her mouth was gone, making him groan in protest until he felt her pull his trousers down lower. Her lips trailed down his hip, biting at his inner thigh making him gasp. The sharp pain made his cock throb.

            “Look at me,” Harley purred from between his legs. J forced himself up onto his elbows to stare at her. Grinning with her swollen lower lip between her teeth, “watch.” Harley leaned over his reddened cock, twitching in time with his heart. He expected her to put it back between her lips and suck him blind but instead her lips lowered to his balls and began to suck gently while her tongue traced circles on his skin.

            “Fuck!” J gasped, clenching his hands in fist trying to control himself. He needed to be in control around Harley. When he wasn’t, he did stupid shit like jumping into a vat of acid after her or tell her she was the only person he bothered to take to ACE. “What are you doing to me, little monster?” He growled between clenched teeth.

            Harley didn’t dignify him with a response and winked at her clown and wrapped a hand around his weeping cock. Her hand twisted and pumped over him, occasionally rubbing her palm over the tip. He was wet enough from her mouth and precum that her hand moved smoothly over his flesh, making him gasp. He felt like he was outside his body, pleasure pulsed over his whole body. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t talk. It was too much.

            Harley seemed oblivious to how out of control he was becoming. How close he was. She returned her mouth to his cock and lightly teased his balls with her fingers, occasionally gently pulling against their upward rise. She looked like a fucking Goddess with his cock in her mouth. Her hair was a tangled mess that traced over his skin, her eyes lightly watering but glittering in satisfaction, her lips swollen and stretched around his cock, her cheeks red with arousal, her hips rolling anxiously against the bed.

            “Harley-“ J choked out, unsure if he was trying to tell her something or just needed to say her name. If he planned on saying anymore it died on his lips as her name turned into a low groan. Any plans of staying silent, not giving her power, were rapidly dying. Harley moaned back, moving faster over his cock as one hand that had been resting on his hip trailed down his thigh and in between her legs under her leggings. Harley pressed up onto all fours and began rubbing at her clit desperately, moaning around his cock.

            J stopped breathing. She’d touched her self while they had sex a few times to make sure her clit didn’t feel left out, but he’d never seen her do it because she was fucking desperate. And apparently sucking his cock made her desperate. J was torn, his cock throbbed dangerously, and his balls clenched tight to his body. He wanted to finish in her mouth and see Harley swallow his cum- but he needed her. Now.

            “Harley,” J heard himself choke out. “I need-“ his words were cut off by a grunt as she sucked at his flesh a little harder. “Harley.” J repeated, unable to finish his thought. Thankfully Harley seemed to get the message, she stood quickly tearing her bustier the rest of the way off, kicking out of her leggings as fast as she could while rolling on a condom.

            “Need you,” she grunted. J moved to grab her to put her on the bed under him and take care of his girl. Instead Harley pushed him flat to the bed and climbed atop him. Harley crushed her lips to his, still hot and swollen from sucking his cock. It felt odd to let her take control, but he was quickly learning to appreciate its benefits.

            “Harley,” he groaned again. She rolled her hips against him before reaching down to his cock, pumping him a few times and aligning him with her entrance. She’d always been wet for him, but she was fucking dripping tonight. His trousers were going to be completely ruined and he couldn’t have cared less.

            “Yes, J.” Harley gasped, lowering herself over his cock. She froze for a moment panting at the sensation. J tried to be patient, but his cock was twitching inside of her and he was desperate for her to move.

            “Harley,” he gasped, wanting her to move but unable to form the words. Harley gave him a feral smile and began to rock her hips against him. Every few thrusts she would tense her pelvic floor muscles, making her already tight pussy feels as if it was strangling him. He’d never been one for strangling, knives were much more fun, but he could happily get behind this particular variety.

            “Do you want this?” She gasped, rocking faster and trailing her hands down to where his were clutched at her hips. She took his hands in her and pushed him roughly back, pinning his hands to the bed. Her new angle allowing her to rise up further on her knees before plunging back down. Her clit was rubbing against him violently, almost making him forget how she was restraining him. It would be easy enough to throw her off but for some fucking reason he didn’t want to.

            “Yes.” He choked out, rocking his hips in rhythm, deepening each thrust. “Yes, I do.” Harley all but screamed as she rotated her hips downwards, allowing for direct contact with her G-spot. The tip of his cock was rubbing directly over her spongy tissue, making her muscles twitch and more hot wetness to run down his cock.

            “Puddin’- uh!” Harley grunted back, her spine arching and her head dropping down. J tore one hand free to tangle in her hair and crushed her lips against his. “Need you,” she mumbled against his lips, her pussy spasming around him in warning.

            “Come for me,” he gasped, “need you to come for me.” Harley pushed herself up to sitting upright on his cock, her hands balancing herself on his chest. They were both loosing rhythm, getting lost in the delicious friction of each other’s bodies. J could feel his balls clenching in warning, knowing he couldn’t last much longer. “Fuck Harley- now, fuck- please!” He ground out between clenched teeth.

            Her back arched back sharply as she screamed his name, her head collapsing against her chest. The sounds of their fucking got louder, the wet slap of her body on his echoing in the room as her screams of pleasure slowly morphed to whimpers then soft murmurs of his name. The crotch of his trousers was soaked through, warm and wet.            

             “Please,” Harley cried, “again.” The speed of her thrusts picked up again. “Touch me,” she begged. J pushed himself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed and anchored his feet on the floor. He sucked one nipple deep into his mouth and nipped at her flesh while another hand trailed across her abdomen to circle her clitoris.

            “Can’t last much longer,” J gasped as her pussy milked him. Between her earlier sucking, hearing her scream his name as she came, and the thrust of her hips on his- he was primed to burst any moment. His free hand clutched at her hip with bruising force, pulling her against him.

            “Doesn’t- doesn’t matter. I’m already, already- fuck! J!” Harley panted, loosing all semblance of rhythm as she thrashed against him. J pressed his mouth to hers one last time, letting her scream against his lips as he tried and failed to contain his groans. He was a goner, it was too much. J lost all control of his hips, thrusting unevenly against her as his balls pulled in tight to his body.

            “Harley,” he grunted a final time as he emptied himself inside of her pulsing center. 

            The two lied there panting for what seemed like an eternity, only moving to dispose of the condom. J wasn’t one for cuddling but the idea of getting up and removing Harley from his person was profoundly unappealing. Neither one moved until Harley was fast asleep on his chest. Only then did J get up, pulling the blankets over her sleeping body. He left her room not at all certain that he wanted to.

 

* * *

 

            Harley was still naked when frantic knocking at her door woke her from her sleep. Wrapping the sheet around her body she stomped to the door holding her side arm, ready to shoot who ever made her get up.

            “We have a situation- oh fuck sorry! Sorry!” Frost said, covering his eyes and turning to face away from the door.

            “I’m covered, he won’t kill you-probably. Now, why the hell am I awake?” Looking the man up and down, she noticed he was in a wrinkled suit and the buttons of his shirt were misaligned as if he’d gotten dressed too quickly.

            “It’s the boss.” Harley went pale (if it was possible to get any paler) and leaned against the door frame. “He’s fine- he just hasn’t slept in a few days and he did coke the other night. Normally that isn’t a problem, but if he hasn’t slept in a while and he’s been stressed, and he’s been really stressed out about tonight’s heist. And sometimes if all that’s going on it makes him…” Frost trailed off, unsure what word to use that would both describe Mister J and not get him killed.

            “Manic?” Harley asked flatly. She figured it would happen at some point, it had happened in Arkham three or four times but there had never been any coke involved (at least she didn’t think so).

            “Yes,” Frost breathed, relieved that she had supplied the word. “He’s fine, he does this sometimes but…” He trailed off.

            “I’m getting dressed. Give me five minutes.” Harley slammed the door and marched over to her dresser to grab something durable. There was no telling what he would get into. Back in Arkham she could dimly remember trying some hardcore sedatives and even a few anti-psychotics on him when he was up, but they never seemed to have any effect. She would just have to ride it out. She opened a drawer where she kept some of her medical supplies and dug around for a bottle of Ritalin. Back in school she used a combination of coffee and a little bit o’ coke to keep her going during exams. Coke would be a bad idea around J when he was up, at least one of them needed to be remotely sane. She dry swallowed three little blue pills and stretched her neck, it was going to be a long night.

            Harley had just finished adjusting her corseted leather black and red shirt and was wiping the mascara stains from under her eyes when J burst into the room with Slappy on his heels.

            “Harls, I have an amazing idea. So- the Chechens, I mean they’re a pain in the ass but whadaya gonna do right? Wrong. We’re gonna get then Harls. I have so many ideas. I was just reorganizing the armory when I saw this flame thrower” J was talking so fast it was almost impossible to understand him. Slappy shot Harley a look that clearly communicated that reorganizing was not the word he would use to describe what J had been doing in the armory.

            “-and that made me think, ‘me, why haven’t you made a gas that makes people spontaneously combust’ and then I thought ‘why because that it impossible, dear,’ and then I thought, ‘why I do as many as six impossible things a day,’ and then I thought it was funny that I was ripping off Alice and Wonderland. Anyway! I’ve decided, I need to make a gas that turns people into different characters from Alice and Wonderland. Just imagine, cupcake! Hairy, paranoid people willing to kill anyone who could make them late and angry gingers who want to decapitate everyone, it would be so much fun! We could invite Batsy to a tea party!” He started giggling hysterically.

            Harley didn’t doubt he could do it, his chemical toys were one of the most impressive things about him (and that was saying something). Even when his mind wasn’t fully cooperating his ideas were truly genius (well, according to her, to anyone else they probably would have been horrified). But she didn’t trust him to be in his lab right now without getting himself and everyone else killed. Harleen probably would have sedated him and called 911, but that wasn’t really an option here. So, instead, she chose to distract him for as long as possible and hope she didn’t have to inject him with narcotics from the first aid kit. It would piss him off and probably wouldn’t work.

            “Wow! Puddin’ that’s amazing. Let’s go to your study, I need to write down all of your ideas. Let’s get all of them on paper so that later when you aren’t,” she paused unsure how to sell him on staying out of the lab, “so full of ideas you have a whole bunch to pull from! Come on,” she yelled, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him to his study while shooting Slappy and Frost a slightly panicked look.

            Once he was bored of talking about his plans, he insisted on taking her on a date. Of course, for them, date night entailed driving too fast around the city, breaking into random stores, committing random acts of violence, and having very public sex. She knew it was stupid, that he was already an almost suicidaly reckless driver at a baseline and the mania was only going to make it worse, but she just couldn’t help herself. He looked so beautiful, so powerful behind the driver’s seat of his sports cars. How could a girl say no? Especially since her Puddin’ wanted her to come along for his rampage. Not Slappy, not Frost. Her.

            Afterwards he brought her back to the hide out told her there was something he needed to do and disappeared. For a day and a half. Harley worried herself sick, pacing around the hide out. Stress eating frosting (vanilla with extra sprinkles) straight out of the container. Beating the shit out of a punching bag. Beating the shit out of J’s men. Beating the shit out of some of J’s playmates he was keeping in the basement. Throwing up when she woke up from nightmares about him getting killed. Blowing off steam with explosives. Crying in the shower. Stress eating _more_ frosting (vanilla with extra sprinkles) straight out of the container.

            Frost told her the boss was a tough guy to kill and that he did this sometimes, but that didn’t stop Harley from panicking the whole time he was gone. She spent time with Frost, learning about J’s operations, training, and generally bothering him until he told her to go distract herself (which was more violence, crying, and vanilla frosting with extra sprinkles).

            The alarm alerting that someone was pulling into the garage finally went off around 5 PM on the second day of his disappearance. Harley sprinted from the couch where she was dizzily playing poker with a couple of J’s men and down the stairs, knocking over various chairs and tables along the way. J stumbled out of a badly dented and burnt bus, his clothes ripped, with a big smile on his face.

            “Honey, I’m home.” He said sarcastically, reaching his arms out to either side. Harley took one look at his torn and bloody clothes, slapped him across the face, then knocked him over with her exuberant hug.

            “Scare me like that again and so help me I will-” Harley started before being cut off by a kiss from J. She could see just how tired and ragged he was. Not saying a word, Harley took him by the hand and brought him to her room.

            “Don’t you argue with me mister. Lie down and go to sleep before I find a drug strong enough to make you.” She chastised, wagging a finger at him. J laughed and looked like he wanted to say something but ended up faceplanting into the bed, asleep before his head hit the mattress.

            “Oh Puddin’,” Harley sighed. She began stripping him, noting where he had been wounded debating if any of his clothes were salvageable. Probably not, she ended up deciding, before cutting his pants off of him. She did the best she could to clean him up with washcloths, but he definitely needed a bath. Picking up the med kit she took the last of the Ritalin and began stitching his various boo-boos closed. The idiot looked like he’d been in a few knife fights and crashed his damn car. Judging by the singe marks on his jacket it looked like either the car had caught on fire or he’d also been out starting some. Pulling the blankets out from underneath his limp body, she tucked her naked clown into bed and just stared at him. Harley spent the whole night up with him, fully dressed, on top of the covers ready to pin him to the bed until he agreed to stay and sleep. He was a genius, but that man had no self-preservation and was more likely to wander off again and reinjure himself or die than let himself recover.

 

* * *

 

            J blinked slowly, disoriented and groggy. For a second, he thought he’d fallen asleep in Harley’s bed after having sex- a disturbingly appealing idea. She’d tried something new last night, she’d blown his mind. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to wake her for a second round or sneak out so she wouldn’t realize he’d stayed. It was only when he went to stretch and figure out where Harley was on the bed that felt how sore he was that remembered that he hadn’t stayed over last night.

            Images of driving around Gotham with her by his side flickered in his mind. Flashes of wandering down dark allies and picking fights, having fun with the pigs, breaking into a series of penthouses, jumping from roof top to roof top, and crashing some sort official looking car blurred together. He vaguely recalled Harley slapping him across the face when he got back and dragging him upstairs, but it all went black after that.

            “How do you feel?” Harley asked in a scratchy voice at the foot of the bed. J paused, unsure if he wanted to admit he was awake while she was there. “I know your awake, asshole.” J groaned, sitting up, trying to ignore the twisting panic sensation at being in her room.

            “How long have I been asleep?” He asked, rubbing his eyes.

            “Almost 20 hours.” She responded. J was taken aback by how bedraggled she looked. She was pale(er), her hair a tangled mess, with deep dark circles under her eyes. She was wearing one of his button-up shirts he’d left in her room a few weeks ago and a pair of sweatpants short-shorts looking like she might collapse from exhaustion.

            “Why?” He asked, looking her up and down as if her presence would explain itself.

            “You weren’t going to take care of yourself and I didn’t want to go into your room and invade your space. You needed stitches and someone needed to take care of you and make sure you didn’t run off again.” J was perplexed, normally he just collapsed wherever he ran out of steam and was surprised to wake up. The idea that someone ‘took care of’ him was confusing.

            “Why would-?”

            "Your shit at taking care of yourself so I’m going to be doing that now.” Harley interrupted, looking at him levelly. Her tone and facial expression made it clear that it wasn’t up for debate even if the idea of being taken care of made him want to crawl out his skin. Although he wasn’t sure it was an entirely unpleasant sensation (just a mostly unpleasant one). It seemed best to just seemed to accept it as a new reality.

            “How long have you been awake for?” He asked, unsure why he cared.

            “I got five hours of sleep the night you left. I got two or three hours the first night but was too anxious to really sleep. Then you got back, and I needed to watch you.” J was stunned into silence. Unsure what to say, he did the most obvious thing and pulled back the blankets and tugged her to lie next to him. Both were asleep in minutes.

      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to make it clear that the way I characterize mania and drug use here are not to be reflective of the lived experiences of people living with mental illness, including substance use disorders and bipolar disorder. I have family members and friends who have lived with these conditions and understand how difficult and painful these topics can be. This is very much a dramatized portrayal used for literary purposes. If you have any concerns, feel free to comment below or contact me and I'm happy to chat :)


	4. Dr. J

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> J was plotting. Normally he’d be planning some heist or deadly prank or very public game that reminded Gotham that chaos was the only constant. But, instead, he was trying to determine what one gives or does for someone’s 3-month rebirthday. He hadn’t done anything for her last two, mostly because he couldn’t have told you when they were to save his soul.  
> “Slappy!” J yelled out his study’s door out to the main corridor. “Get in here!” J sat himself on his desk and poured a drink. Harley deserved something, just what the fuck that was eluded him. Slappy spent enough time with Harley that he should have some ideas, even if trying to understand what he was miming was annoying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers, we’re almost half the way through our story! I’m interested to see what you all think of this chapter, it’s a *very* important one. Let me know what you think in the comments below!
> 
> Songs: Don’t Stop- Gin Wigmore; Going to Hell (acoustic)- The Pretty Reckless, Gangsta- Kehlani

 

    Time had never been a particularly salient concept to J. He was at his clubs most nights with no real distinction between week and weekend unless he was out having fun with Batsy. Even day and night blended together, often going days without sleeping. His days had taken on something of a rhythm since Harley came to the hideout, with time intervals measured by seeing her and leaving her.

      He wasn’t even sure how much time they spent together. Long enough to have some fun before the pressure inside his mind or the pressures from the club made him leave. They took ‘fun’ very seriously, often reverting into psychotic preschoolers. One time they had a naked multi-story paintball fight all over the hide out, forcing henchmen out of various rooms with their hands over their eyes. Everyone knew the only sensible thing to do if you saw too much of Miss Quinn was to eat your gun (Mr. J decided to have a show and tell of what was left of the first few guys who made that mistake). They also knew to make themselves scarce if they heard childish giggles. Those sounds were the only warning sign before either someone got killed in a disturbingly creative way or you saw the Clown Prince of Crime doing things to Miss Quinn that couldn’t be unseen (no matter how hard they tried, and they tried pretty damn hard). Or one after another.

      J knew he’d be coming home late that night and had told Harley to be a good girl and be in bed when he got home because Daddy had important business deal to wrap up. She’d sulked a little, but J had promised that if she was good girl and was in bed when he got back, he would bring her something fun. It was still an odd idea that he gave a shit about what she did and when beyond just seeing if he could control someone, but it was just one more thing he chose not to think about.

      Harley was technically waiting in bed, but she didn’t say she wouldn’t be waiting posed like a pin-up girl in a special outfit she’d stolen while on a shopping rampage with Slappy. Her underwear was fairly conservative, covering most of her ass and all of her pussy. The fabric over her mons was a velvety green fabric that matched J’s hair, but the rest was covered by a combination of silky lace and strips of elastic that wrapped from her crotch, over her hips, and down to the center of her backside. The bra barely covered her nipples, the cups were the same green material as her crotch and was held in place by a several inch-wide band of lace. The lace was corseted in the back, showing of her milky white skin and giving the bra a chance in hell of staying up.

      “Miss Harley Quin, my stripes and garters, look at you. I would have killed that boring central casting mobster a hell of a lot faster if I’d known you were looking like this!” He announced leaning against the wall next to her door.

      “Mistah J! Look at you sweet talker, you.” She squealed, turning on to her side to look at him.

 

* * *

 

      It wasn’t the only special surprise she had gotten while on her field trip with Slappy, but she thought that this particular outfit matched her newest decorations from the night before perfectly.

      She had found a stash of magic markers in the main room where J’s goons hung out in and had immediately taken them back to her room for a little art project. J came home an hour or so later and walked in on her doodling on herself. She wasn’t sure how he’d react to the various drawings and words she had made on herself, especially since she mostly just drew hearts with their names inside them all over her body, but he was rather… entranced the results. By the time he left to go do whatever it was he did while she slept, they were both covered in magic markers and had left some pretty interesting stains on her sheets.

      “Did you get your work done for tonight?” She asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him hoping he would say yes and she wouldn’t have to wait around for him to finish his calling everyone he needed to talk to (which often felt like every person in Gotham).

      “Hmm?” He asked distracted. “Something like that. Now give us a twirl!”

      Harley laughed, excited that he was home early for her. He probably had more work he needed to get done, especially since he needed to replace the coke dealer he killed a few weeks back, but he came home anyway. She made a point to turn slowly, swinging her hips. Once she faced away from him, she leaned over, putting her hands on the bed, showing off her assets and making it obvious how easy it would be for him to rip her panties off of her.

      “Oh, my dear, and I thought that you had no idea what was in store for you tonight- you are full of surprises my Harlequin!” He chuckled into her ear, pausing to kiss her neck.

      “Tell me Mistah J! Did you bring your Harley something special?” She asked, smiling from ear to ear, unbuttoning the few buttons that he bothered to close on his shirt that evening.

      “You inspired me Miss Quinn! I saw your decorations last night and couldn’t help but think they should stick around for a little longer. So, ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you, our new and improved art supplies!” He held a tattoo gun above him, sounding every inch like a ring master.

      “Ooh! We can doodle on each other for real now?” She asked, clapping her hands excitedly.

      “Yes, we can my Harley-girl!”

      “And it’s not even my birthday!” She rolled over and began counting on her fingers, “I’m not three months old for like two more days!” Harley didn’t notice J’s surprised face until he spoke.

      “Interesting…” J paused distractedly, obviously thinking about something before regaining his enthusiastic grin. “Now let’s get started! I think you had some rather exciting ideas...”

      Over the next several hours Harley’s drawings came to life. J had rolled his eyes but went about making her heart with their names in it permanent. Harley knew better than to show how happy it made her he acknowledged the tattoo, let alone worked on it first, and bit her lip till it bled trying not to smile. By the time the sun began to set, Harley had several sets of harlequin diamonds, a cute little dolphin, and ‘Daddy’s Little Monster’ decorating her skin.

      “Well Doll, I think that’s enough on you for now! I know I have a few more ideas but those will have to wait for another night. Alas the day is over and night has fallen, I got people to kill, plots to hatch, and flying rodents to piss off!” J scrambled back on to his feet, seemingly awake and ready to take on the world. “I’m a busy man cupcake!” He dramatically blew a kiss at her before skipping out of the room. Harley couldn’t help but laugh.

 

* * *

 

      J was plotting. Normally he’d be planning some heist or deadly prank or very public game that reminded Gotham that chaos was the only constant. But, instead, he was trying to determine what one gives or does for someone’s 3-month rebirthday. He hadn’t done anything for her last two, mostly because he couldn’t have told you when they were to save his soul.

      He knew that Harley would like it if he did something or gave her something. She certainly deserved a gift for putting up with him at times, he chuckled. She’d been… nice. He liked spending time with her more than he was comfortable admitting and they certainly had fun. She made him smile and not just because he was in on a joke that no one else was. It was extraordinarily weird and somewhat unpleasant but oddly pleasurable.

      Harley had a way of understanding his moods and responding in a way that was usually helpful. She escalated his ecstatic violence and joy while making his brain shut up. She did stupid little things like filling a stolen kiddie pool with a concerning amount of Jell-O that she blended to match his lipstick and challenging him to a wrestling match. It should have been annoying but was oddly endearing and quiet a lot of fun (especially once their wrestling got X-rated).

      That’s not to say it was all sunshine and rainbows. The Joker didn’t get his reputation for nothing. Harley was there with his playmates in the basement egging him on and getting her hands dirty when his associates crossed him. She left him alone when Batsy didn’t want to play until he had gone from fully homicidal to merely murderous. Then she would show up outside of his study with a grand plan to piss of the masked crusader.  Oddly, usually she could calm him down by just being there, even if she just sat on his desk while he threw various knives at a wall (or a person).

      He didn’t get mad at Harley often, but when he did it was usually because she made him be disgustingly human and ‘feel’ something. He was harder to calm those nights- but she gave it as good as she got it. They usually ended up sparing in the gym. They wouldn’t hurt each other too badly (except for the time she accidentally broke his nose) just enough to make the inevitable frantic sex spectacular.

      After the initial round on whatever surface they were closest to, those nights usually ended in bizarrely slow and calm sex. J wasn’t sure what to call it. Those nights he stayed with Harley longer before he’d slip out of bed with a kiss on her forehead. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for or what he needed those nights, but Harley seemed to know. J didn’t like not understanding, but (for the moment) he could tolerate it.

      “Slappy!” J yelled out his study’s door out to the main corridor. “Get in here!” J sat himself on his desk and poured a drink. Harley deserved something, just what the fuck that was eluded him. Slappy spent enough time with Harley that he should have some ideas, even if trying to understand what he was miming was annoying.

      The tall man bounced into the study and cocked his head, indicating that he was ready to be given instructions.

      “Harley is turning three months old tomorrow and I need to get something for her. I’m not sure what one get’s their…” J trailed off, unsure what to call her before clearing his throat. “I don’t know what to get her.” Slappy scrunched up his face in deep thought for a moment before snapping his fingers and running out the door. J could hear Slappy’s door open and slam closed before the loud slapping of his feet announced his return.

            Slappy, panting lightly, held up a flyer that had clearly been torn from a magazine. It was a picture of a jewelry store in the fancy part of down town. Harley had circled a few rings and necklaces that she drew hearts around and drew an arrow pointing at a thick gold chain and written “Puddin?” with a heart as the dot in the eye.

      “Good job, Slappy.” J drawled, smiling to himself. “Get us set up to go tomorrow night- and don’t tell Harley. It’s a surprise.”

 

* * *

 

      Birthdays were stupid and presents were a terrible idea, J concluded. He’d been trying to do something for Harley but no, of course it had to blow up in his face. It had started out auspiciously enough. When he told Harley where they were going and what they were going to get she jumped him and kissed his lipstick off. But now, six hours later, instead of coming home covered in bling and stumbling to her bedroom for a much anticipated thank-you sex marathon, J carried a limp Harley up the stairs. She’d been injured before, but she’d never gotten shot and the bullet had gone right through deltoid. Stupid security ruining his fun.

      They still got the goods, his girl sparkled like a damn disco ball, but the whole victory-high was seriously undercut by the sheer volume of her blood he was covered in. Which was odd, blood was usually quite funny.

      Normally he’d just put her in her bed, have Frost summon their doctor, and go plan a way to creatively kill who ever hurt her (if she hadn’t already). Once the doctor told him she was awake he would go double check the doctor’s work. If it satisfied him, he would leave to go get revenge. After he was done playing with his toys, he’d bring Harley to see what had happened to the people who hurt her with all the excitement of a child showing their mom their latest art project. If she was well enough, she usually ended up jumping him in the hall way or on the stairs.

      But this time he froze in front of the stairs that led to his room. The idea of leaving her with some stranger made that weird sick feeling in his stomach he’d been feeling since he saw her get shot get worse. He’d never tell Harley, but he liked waking up in her room after a night under her care. He used to stitch himself up, pass out in his dirty clothes, and be surprised to wake up the next day. Waking up in her bed the first time was confusing, but after that he almost looked forward to his next injury. The idea that Harley cared about (or a different word that started with ‘L’ that he refused to think about) him was a strange idea.

      “Fuck”, he muttered, “I need that stupid emotion wheel guide Harleen used to wave around.” With a grunt he turned to walk towards his room. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to deal with Harley’s reaction to waking up in his room, but he was already placing her on his bed before he decided if it was a good idea. Her wound was easy enough to take care of. The bullet had passed clean through the muscle without chipping a bone. It just needed to be cauterized and stitched up, she would need some blood and antibiotics but she would be fine. He considered leaving her dressed but decided she would be more comfortable without her bloody clothes. It was weird to think about someone’s ‘comfort,’ he wasn’t sure when he started caring about it. He had even given her anesthetics from the first aid kit because she would be in pain. Shaking his head to dispel the confusing thoughts, he crawled into bed and gave into the exhaustion he’d been fighting the last couple hours.

 

* * *

 

      Harley woke the next day confused and in much less pain than she expected to be. She knew her sense of pain had been altered by her chemical bath and the ECT but could tell that she must have been given something to take the edge off. Which was odd because J didn’t like painkillers. She opened her eyes, she realized she had no idea where she was. Starting to panic she tried to roll over, only to realize she was mostly naked and lightly pinned to the bed by something behind her. Taking deep breath, she looked around the room trying to see if there was anything in reaching distance she could use as a weapon. Trying to figure out why she couldn’t get up easily she looked down to her waist, surprised to see an unnaturally white arm wrapped around her waist and a pale leg covered in familiar tattoos between hers.

      Harley’s mind flashed through the last 24-hours, trying to figure out how the hell she ended up in what appeared to be Puddin’s room with Puddin’. He had fallen asleep in her bed before, but it was only when she was taking care of him after manic adventures or a particularly nasty wound. She didn’t go into his rooms, ever. She knew where it was, but he was only to be disturbed in there if you were dying (and he would care that you were dying), the hideout was on fire (and he hadn’t started it), or Batsy came to play. None of the three had happened yet and she knew better than to stop by and say hello. Picking up his arm, she was able to roll on to her back gently.

      Yup’ definetly her Puddin’ she thought, staring at her lover’s unruly bright green hair. He looked so young when he slept, she thought, it was the only time his eyes and unpainted lips relaxed. Well… except for when she had him in her mouth. That also worked. Before she could stop herself, a gentle giggle escaped her mouth, startling J out of sleep.

      He didn’t leap out of bed and draw a weapon like she expected. Instead it seemed like every muscle in his body tensed up, his eyes going wide with something like horror while his mouth compressed into a tight line. Harley knew whatever she said would either piss him off beyond belief and exile her from him room or, maybe, give her a spot in his bed. If she acknowledged he was nice he would get defensive and come up with excuses. If she acted like this was normal, he’d panic and think that she thought this was permanent. If she pretended to be asleep, he’d leave and pretend this never happened. Knowing she only had a few seconds before he started talking, she did the first thing she could think of: kiss his frozen face. It wasn’t a long seductive kiss that lead to more, more of a good-morning-you-sexy-bastard kiss.

      “I’m preemptively gonna to tell you to shut up, Puddin’, mkay?” she said, her voice still scratchy from sleep. “Thank you. I don’t really care why I’m in here and I don’t expect it again. I won’t start bothering you in here. And yes, I know, I’m a nuisance.”

      He opened his mouth to speak, his face twisted into an almost childlike expression of defiance before Harley kissed him again before pulling away and laughing, “yes I know I confuse you, Puddin’, sorry not sorry. Now is there anything else we need to address, or,” she paused, intentionally rubbing the outside of her leg against his morning erection to distract him from the panic she knew he’d feel with her in his bed, “you wanna address this?”

      He rolled on top of her, careful of her injured shoulder looking torn between fucking her and talking to her.

      “You think you confuse me, Harley?” He groaned while biting the bruises he’d left on her neck the day before. “You consume me,” he whispered into her ear, pausing to trace his tongue along her earlobe. His lips retuned to hers, locking in a nearly painful kiss as his hands wondered down to her breasts to pull at her nipples in the way he discovered she loved.

      “J!” She moaned, raking her good arm’s nails down his back as her legs came up around his waist. Something about the idea of him taking care of her combined with the way his hands played her like a goddamned piano had her about ten second from telling her shoulder to go fuck itself, flipping him onto his back, and helping him find god.

       “Fuck Harley, you have no idea what you are doing to me.” He moaned, grinding his hips against hers only to freeze staring at something over her shoulder. Harley followed his gaze and saw her shoulder had made a mess overnight, it wasn’t a worrying amount of blood, but the sheets definitely weren’t going to make it. J was only still a moment before ripping himself from her grasp and sit on the far edge of his bed.

      “You have no idea what you are doing to me,” he repeated, running his hands through his hair. He went silent, staring at the floor. “Other people getting shot it always funny. This,” he muttered “isn’t funny.” Harley wriggled to sitting, struggling to follow his emotions.

      “Harleen forgot to cover her notes a few times, you remember that? Severe empathetic deficit, sociopathic presentation, attachment disorganization in her perfect fucking cursive all over my chart. You have a PhD, doctor, what is your clinical opinion?” He whispered in a mocking voice she usually heard before he killed a particularly obnoxious or stupid henchman.

      Harley scooted towards him, struggling to navigate the piles of blankets with one arm. She made her way to sitting behind him slowly, putting a leg on either side and resting her head on the back of his neck, reversing the position she’d woken up in. She never knew how to respond to him when he was angry about caring. What she said usually ended up making him care more, something that scared him (and made her very happy). She didn’t think he’d hurt her, but she didn’t want to test her luck either.

      “I don’t know Puddin’. Harleen hasn’t talked much since I burned down her old apartment, but I try not to listen to her. She’s real annoying. If you want me to explain developmental psychology I can, but I Professor Quinn is pretty boring.” Harley teased, hoping he wouldn’t make her psychoanalyze him. Sighing, she continued.

      “Harleen didn’t know if you were psychopath or sociopath cause’ she didn’t know you when you were a kid to figure out if you were made or born as interesting as you are. She went with sociopathic presentation because you are impulsive, mercurial, and mostly understand what other people are feeling and why- you just don’t care. You got the whole sympathy but little to no empathy thing going on. Psychopaths can’t make emotional bonds but sometimes, in rare circumstances, sociopaths can. Dr. Quinnzelle was annoying but she wasn’t wrong.”

      “If she says that, why are you here?” He demanded. “I electrocuted you, ignored you, almost hit you with my car, encouraged you to jump into acid, you trained no matter how much it hurt, you fight back with me. No one fucking does that. No one.” His voice sounded a weird combination of curious and mad that she hadn’t heard from him before. Harley didn’t know how to answer his question.

       “Other than first two, I did everything cause’ I wanted to,” she meant it but wanted him to laugh, adding, “and I’m only mad about the second one.” He didn’t respond, getting more irritated the longer he had to wait for her to explain herself. “You already know why.” She sighed against his skin, hoping it would be enough.

      “Harley don’t push it. You know what happened last time. He won’t like it, just shut up and get away from him.” Harleen whispered, clearly reluctant to speak. Harley flinched but tried to hide her reaction, hoping J wouldn’t notice a third person had joined their conversation.

      “Hun- I actually agree with Harleen. I know, snowy day in hell- blah, blah, blah. But hun’ really, shut up.” The Lady-without-a-name added.

      “No Harley, actually I don’t.” He ground out, sounding like he was restraining himself from hitting something. Which was odd, restraint wasn’t one of her Puddin’s many amazing qualities.

      “Harleen told you why.” She whispered, crushing her eyes closed pressing her forehead against his back, not wanting to see how he reacted to reminding him of her declaration of love. His body tensed, but he didn’t leave.

      “Harleen was wrong.”

       “Harleen was wrong about a whole lot of things J, and she lied to herself about most of the thing she was right about. Not about this though. You’d know if she was lying, you saw through her. Only you saw the kind of good she was.” Harley said, stroking her hands along his thighs hoping to distract him from this line of questioning.

      “Oh, she had potential, she just needed a little push.” He chuckled darkly.

       “Mistah J you’re gonna make a girl cry and not in a funny way.” She giggled, trying to drown out Harleen.

      “Why though?” J asked before getting quiet. He became very still, his momentary levity evaporating. “Why are you here?” Harley flinched at J’s dismissiveness.

      “Harley! What are you doing?” Harleen whispered urgently. “Last time you tried to convince him you loved him and that he should treat you special, he had you jump into a vat of acid, what do you think will happen this time? He’ll kill you, you stupid bitch.”

      “Seriously- If I’m agreein’ with Harleen you know it’s something real obvious.” The Lady added urgently.

      “Harleen was the most interesting thing in Arkham,” J continued, “but not the most interesting thing in Gotham. What made her worth any of this?” He said, in a dangerous voice that Harley didn’t seem to hear.

       “You mean nothing to him! He doesn’t care about you! Why would you even think he cares about you? Don’t give him more power over you. You already _have_ nothing without him, do you really want to be reminded that your nothing _to_ him?” Harleen screeched.

      “I don’t know, I don’t know.” Harley started backing up, almost falling off the other side of the bed, as Harleen’s voice got louder- chanting that she was worthless, useless, nothing.

      “Shut up! Shut up! I don’t care!” she yelled covering her ears with her working arm.

      “Is that the best you’ve got Harley? Your nothing! You could have been a famous doctor but instead your side pussy to batman. Your worthless! You think you love him? Even I didn’t know you were that stupid!”

      “Why won’t you stop talking?” Harley thought she might be yelling but all she could hear was her old voice, with a practiced accent free cadence, telling her in vivid detail just how badly she had fucked up.

 

* * *

 

      At first, J had thought she was talking to him and was about two seconds from losing his temper before he realized Harley was far away. He’d seen recordings of her talking to Harleen and some other voice he’d never heard her name, but he’d never seen it happen in person before. He had wondered if the painkillers would trigger anything, turns out the answer was a resounding yes. She was annoyingly loud, but he figured that maybe he could use this to his advantage somehow. Understand his Harlequin a little better, figure out what the fuck she was doing here.

      “Do we have a visitor, Harley?” J asked in a quiet voice.

      “Harleen and the Lady won’t shut up!” Harley cried, curling in on herself.

      “What are they saying, cupcake?”

      “Harleen keeps telling me how stupid I am for blowing up my life,” she muttered, “I threw away everything she worked for and now I’m gonna end up dead.”

      “Why is that?” He said, unsure why her words made his chest feel tight.

      “She says this is just a game to keep you entertained. Your unpredictable, mostly you want me and are my friend but then you get all distant and mad. You get bored lots and, ‘cause you don’t have much in the way of empathy and probably don’t care about me, soon as you get bored you- shut up!” J normally found crying grating but something about watching Harley try to suppress her tears made him want to hug her. A thought he definitely never had before. He decided he would think about that later, or (more likely) actively try not to. He walked around the bed and placed Harley’s head in his lap

      “What does she think is going to happen, Harley?” He asked hesitantly. Say what you will about Harleen, but she was smart, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know how she saw this ending.

      “She thinks that the best-case scenario you leave me, and my mind and heart end up broken forever. But she thinks you’ll end up torturing me to death for fun once I get too annoying or you get bored.” Harley said in a casual, vacant voice. J wasn’t sure if she knew he was there, but began running his hands through her hair.

      “Is that what you think, Harley?” he eventually whispered, feeling something closer to scared then he could remember ever feeling.

      “No. She has them backwards.” Her words hit him like a physical blow. He had no frame of reference to understand how someone could prefer being _tortured to death_ over going their separate ways. The amount of power she had given him was terrifying. Fucked up beyond belief. He knew his Harlequin was insane, he liked her that way, but this was a combination of fearless and crazy aroused a near violent longing in him he could barely suppress.  

      “If I weren’t so crazy, I would think you are insane,” he snarled. He pinned her good arm to the bed and straddled her waist. Harley’s eyes were still far away but he knew he’d have her attention soon enough. Reaching over to the first aid kit he left next to the bed, J grabbed roles of gauze and created a makeshift gag by shoving the plastic role from the center of a bandage into her mouth and wrapping the remaining gauze over her mouth forcing her to shut up.

      “Is that what the good doctor thinks? How kind of her to give us her professional opinion.” He growled from above Harley’s prone body. “Tell me, Miss. Harley Quinn, did Dr. Quinzelle tell you that you are fucking insane? Don’t you know better than to give _me_ that much power?” He leaned down so he was speaking into her ear, “Well doll, it looks like you are going to learn that lesson the hard way.”

      He placed a hand on her neck, not squeezing (he knew by now he didn’t like her hurt and didn’t want her dead) but letting her know who was in control. Bending over he bit her neck roughly, leaving a trail of bruises in the shape of his grill from below her ear, across her shoulder, and down to her breasts.

 

* * *

 

            Harley’s eyes were wide. She wasn’t entirely sure what she had said, but she knew she’d said too much. She scared him. She loved every inch of J, even this part. The part of him that only found comfort in power. She knew he wouldn’t hurt his Harlequin.

            “You want this, Harley? This is what you prefer?” He asked angrily, scraping his nails down her sides before resting them on her thighs. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable either. But it was the kind of discomfort that made her want him to fuck her. Hard. “You were never supposed to surrender. You were never supposed to be mine like this,” he continued, pinching at her nipples until she was moaning from behind the gag.

            “The Joker is just an idea. Chaos. Do you have any idea how much fun it is not to be human?” He laughed bitterly. “Well, let me give you an idea. Before you, Miss. Quinn, the only thing I ever needed or wanted was to spread chaotic fun across Gotham.” He giggled without humor, “I sold drugs, but I barley used them. They were just how I made money to make chaos. Oh, I talked to business associates who counted themselves my equal all night long, but I didn’t care if I saw any of them ever again. I killed a whole lot of them. I ran strip clubs, but I had no interest in women. I could do anything, go anywhere, be anything. It didn’t matter. I had fun. Everyone was annoying. Everyone was expendable.”

             His hands gentled, rubbing her breasts, skimming them with his fingertips. Harley couldn’t tell if he was actually paying attention to her body, but he seemed completely unaware that she was dying for more. She tried to focus on his words, she understood what he was saying, but her chest was aching with pleasure. She was gasping and moaning behind the gag, feeling her wetness seep down her thighs and onto the bed.

            “Now all of a sudden you are in the picture. And for some reason I crave you. I think of you when I’m at the club, when I’m pissed off and climbing walls because you’re off on an adventure or here at the hide out. I can’t stop thinking about things you’d laugh at, things you would enjoy, things that would annoy you. Ideas don’t get caught up in other people.” He growled, pinching her nipple. Jolting her from the light teasing sensations of his fingertips, making her shout against the gag.

            He dropped his mouth next to her ear and whispered, “Before you I didn’t think about people. Women were a pointless distraction from chaos and fun, why bother thinking about them let alone fucking them? I never touched them.  Now I want to fuck you every moment of every day.”

            Harley stopped listening after he said he never fucked other women. She assumed he hadn’t fucked many, he would get too annoyed with them and kill them. But she assumed there must have been some. The idea that her glorious, sexy clown she was currently in bed with, who was making her reconsider if she could come from breast play alone, was a virgin three months ago was mind-blowing. She couldn’t have been more shocked if he had told her that he was in a secret sex cult with Batman and Cobblepot. J must have noticed her frozen body and began to laugh mockingly.

            “Everyone chases after their lusts, thinking they are smooth. Unique.  They think they’ve found the height of distracting pleasure and devote themselves to seeking it out. But they don’t understand how stupid they all look, how pathetic. How their lusts control them. Even you Harley Quinn.” He dropped his head to her neck, sucking on her pulse point, leaving large bruises behind him. His mouth continued to her chest, sucking at her nipples before scraping his metal teeth against them, “and now me.”

            Harley had never been so overwhelmed, so consumed by sensation. Her pussy throbbed, begging for contact. Anything. Instead, all she got was another series of bites. Pleasure was building up inside of her feeling like it would burst at any moment. Like she would come if he would just touch her. Just for a second. Somehow, it didn’t end up mattering. J was growling something against her skin, groaning against the underside of her breast, when he gave one breast a harsh squeeze before sucking the other nipple into his mouth. Hard. Harley’s back snapped into an arch as she screamed against her gag, shocked by the pleasure that spiraled out from her breasts and consumed her body. 

 

* * *

 

            J’s erection had faded while trying to explain how she was consuming him, but it had returned with a vengeance while watching her unravel under his hands and mouth. Her unexpected orgasm thrilled him, his cock pulsing hard against his thigh. He had planned to edge her, show her that she was controlled by her lust. To show her how consumed he was.

            But he couldn’t wait. J raced over to his bed side table where he’d left a box of condoms he’d forgotten to bring down to Harley’s room. He dropped to his elbows over her and bit the gauze under her chin between his metal teeth hard, ripping the fabric. Rolling on the condom and placing himself at his entrance he paused, one hand on his cock the other on her hip.

            “Yes?” he groaned against her, marveling at her wetness. Her pale lips glistened in the low light, her pale pink flesh looked so soft and inviting, and a trail of her fluids trickled down onto a dark spot on the sheets below her. Any other night he would have pressed his face into her and fucking feasted. But he needed her. Now.

            “Yes, Puddin’!” She yelled back, rolling her hips as much as she could from her restrained position. J didn’t wait, thrusting hard into her with a grunt. Any thoughts of warming her up or teasing were gone. His hips slammed against hers, their flesh slapping together loudly. He could feel his balls bouncing against her, could feel her wetness dripping down his cock.

            How had he lived without this? He wondered. Without Harley pressed against him? Without her heat strangling her cock? Without those high pitched grunts she made when he bottomed out? Without her scent? Without those faces she made when he shifted his hips upwards so he hit that spot that made her scream? Without those lips gaped open in silence or shouting his name?

            “Touch me, Harley.” He gasped. He needed her fingers in his hair, scratching down his back, pulling at his hips. Without thinking, he grabbed her face gently, almost cradling it, and kissed her deeply.  He almost forgot where he was, what he was doing, what he was doing. All he could focus on was the feeling were the soft lips beneath his, first passionate and bruising then slowing down to a languid pace that could have been mistaken for romantic. His hips slowed to a stop, in frustration Harley had managed to untangle her legs from the bedding and anchored her feet on the bed to rock her hips against his. J hadn’t forgotten he was fucking her; how could he forget when his cock was being strangled in the best way possible? He’d just been distracted by her lips.

            He met her gentle rhythm, letting her set the pace and depth while pressing his pubic bone against her clitoris, eliciting delightful little mewling sounds. Slowly they began to deconstruct. Both of them started to gasp against the other’s lips, neither willing to separate long enough to breath properly. He could feel her muscles starting to twitch around him, making him groan into her open mouth. If he could have pulled himself away, he knew he could dirty talk her over the edge, but he refused to let any more space between them than absolutely necessary for her shoulder. His thrusts came harder but no faster as their muffled cries started to fill the space until Harley’s head fell backwards, moaning J’s name as she came.

            His beautiful little monster saying his name, the rush of wetness, the unbearable pleasure of her clenching around him- it was all too much. Grabbing the back of her head and pressing his lips back to hers he thrust into her one final time, accidentally gasping her name as he twitched inside her over and over again, letting his orgasm take him.

 

* * *

 

            Neither of them moved immediately, nor did they stop kissing. Harley couldn’t begin to imagine what was happening in his mind or how he went from leaving orgasmic bite marks all over her body to doing something she could only refer to as making love to her in the span of an hour. There were somethings she would never know unless he told her, so she contented herself to kiss him as they slowly stopped twitching against each other. Eventually, J rolled off, pull the condom off his semi-hard shaft, and pulled her onto his chest. She knew he would be actively choosing not to think about why he was doing it or why he did something that was very close to romantic and chose to enjoy the quiet while it lasted.

            She couldn’t help but smile. He told her more than he meant to, she knew that. But it was a fucking breakthrough of some sort. She was too sleepy and content to figure out what he meant by that she consumed him, but she knew he thought about her when he was away an wanted her with him. She didn’t know if he loved her, if he was even able to, but he cared about her. She had no idea where to start with the fact he’d never slept with anyone else, but some part of her was smugly thrilled that she was his one and only. Smiling against his chest, she drifted off to sleep feeling more at home pressed against his relaxed body listening to the sound of his quiet snoring than she could remember- as Harley or Harleen.

            When she woke up several hours later, she was disappointed, but not surprised, to be alone. Looking at her phone by the bed, he stayed with her for over 12 hours. That was longer than he ever spent in one place (other than his lab when he had a new idea). Her shoulder hurt, but after last night, she was happy and ready to have some fun. After coffee. And a shower. He did an admirable job of getting the blood and van funk off of her skin, but her hair was matted from a combination of getting shot, bleeding, sleeping, and very good sex.

            She didn’t want to leave his room without putting something on, he shot a drug runner a few weeks ago for checking her out. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he would do if someone saw her completely naked. That wasn’t true, she definitely wanted to know. In extreme detail. Ideally, while sitting on his lap. Even more ideally, naked. But she also didn’t want to complicate their night after a morning that left her grinning from ear to ear.

            “Hopefully he won’t mind if I borrow a shirt,” she mumbled to herself sleepily as she got out of bed. Walking over to his closet, Harley absently wondered how many he actually owned. She didn’t think she’d seen him wear the same outfit twice since he’d gotten out of Arkham. Harley fumbled around for a moment in the walk-in closet looking for a light switch before screaming in delight. All of his clothes and shoes were on the right. Her clothes had been brought up from the room she’d lived in the last three months and hung up on the left.

            A piece of paper was attached to the door by one of the knives he’d given her. She pulled it off and saw he’d written, “I saw some undergarments you’ve kept secret (good thing I didn’t have Slappy do it or I would have had to kill him and replacing him would be have been very annoying), you have been holding out on me Miss Quinn. May I recommend the purple number as a suitable house warming gift for later tonight?”


	5. Grin and Bare it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Frost! Where is Harley?” Joker demanded, jumping up from his seat.
> 
> “Lost visual on her five minutes ago- but she was next to the chain dancers.” Frost responded rapidly from his monitor.
> 
> “What do you mean ‘lost visual’?” J growled back dangerously.
> 
> “Sorry boss,” Frost quickly corrected, “the view of her is blocked by the crowd. Give me a minute to adjust the north-west camera and see if I can’t find her.”
> 
> “Give me a location,” Joker snarled.
> 
> “Scanning boss. It’s a zoo in there.” Joker grabbed his guns from the desk and was reaching for his favored switch blade when his door burst open. Two of the enforcers he kept at the club dragged a defiant, pale woman into the room.
> 
> “Harley,” he growled, looking her up and down for sign of injury. “What the fuck?” He demanded, his worry bleeding into anger. She was covered in blood but judging by the splatter it was from someone else. Her dress was ripped badly down the front exposing her left breast, but she didn’t have any serious visible injuries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers, happy Saturday ;) Lucky for you, you're getting two chapters this week. From now on I'll be posting on Saturdays but I didn't want to leave you hanging for 10 days waiting for the next installment. Hope you enjoy this installment, it’s not the longest chapter but it sure is a good one.  
> Songs: Raise Hell- Dorothy; A little wicked – Valerie Broussard; Hit Me Like A Man- The Pretty Reckless; Dirty Mercy – Gin Wigmore

            Harley leaned towards the mirror in the bathroom Frost had led her to trying to perfect her curls. She was too excited to be nervous but that didn’t stop her from incessantly checking the time. Clipping the final coil in place to cool and set, Harley perched herself on the counter to finish her smoky eye shadow. Harleen hadn’t worn much makeup, it hadn’t suited the persona she built for herself, but Harley was falling in love with all the fun colors she could paint herself with.

            She wished she could have gotten ready at home, their bathroom had better lighting. But Frost had insisted that she pack everything she needed for the night, put on ‘normal’ clothes that hid her skin, and come with him. She had been confused until they pulled up in front of a club that anyone who’d been in Gotham for any length of time knew was operated by the Joker. Harley could have kissed Frost if #1 that wouldn’t have gotten him killed and #2 the idea of kissing someone who wasn’t J wasn’t so, so very yucky.

            “Harley?” J’s voice called from the main room.

            “In here Puddin’” she yelled back, trying to get her winged eyeliner even.

            “What do you think?” J asked, leaning against the door frame. The apartment itself was pretty small, really just a bedroom and bathroom. It was just as expensive and luxurious as his set up at the hideout but on a much smaller scale.

            “It’s nice, but makes a girl worry her man has too many places to hide from her.” Harley laughed, turning to face J.

            “Phft, as if I could hide from you for any useful length of time. You are truly and obnoxiously persistent.” Harley lightly slapped his chest before laughing.

            “Did you bring me clothes or are you here to announce my new career as a stripper?” Harley gestured at her nearly naked self. Frost had told her she didn’t need an outfit, J would take care of that.

            “Don’t even joke,” J growled, “I’ve got a dress for you. I have to go make a few phone calls but then you and I have an hour before your grand entrance.” His hands slid over her waist and pulled her in closer.

            “Don’t _you_ even joke!” She cried, slapping his hands away. “I spent way to long on this hair to mess it up so soon! Out mister, before you distract me.” J laughed, holding his hands up in surrender as he walked out the room.

            “Dress is on the bed.” He called over his shoulder before walking to the office adjoining the bedroom. Harley laughed to herself, he didn’t often decide to be this evasive anymore but when he decided to do his whole aloof and mysterious thing, he really went for it. The ass.

            After finishing her make-up Haley skipped over to the bedroom and opened the garment bag on the silk comforter.  At first glance the dress was relatively simple, just an almost black dark purple strapless dress with a halter top made of several delicate gold chains that met behind the neck and hung down the back. But as she turned in the light there was a stubble dark golden harlequin diamond pattern that glinted and shimmered. The stilettos were the same dark golden color. The ensemble was definitely sexy, but it was expensive looking enough that no one with half a brain would mistake her for a working girl.

            “You’re going to love the club. There are so many people to play with.” J said from the door way, startling her. He walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her newly clothed waist. “I can’t wait for you to see it.”

            “I can’t wait either.” There was something intimate about seeing his club and having earned his trust that she could take care of herself. “You made me wait so long.”

            “Four months isn’t too bad, I just needed to make sure my little monster wasn’t going to get eaten by a bigger badder monster.” He giggled, biting at her neck. “But I think you have the tools to take care of any marauding villains.” J smiled, his hand running up her inner thigh, over her concealed pistol and knife.

            “I can’t imagine that anyone would try something with you there so I’m assuming you want me down with the plebeians.” Harley asked haughtily.

            “Just for a little while,” J reassured. “I want to you know your enemy, see who you’re up against close and personal. Then once you’ve made your rounds and know the cast of characters, tell one of my men who already knows you from the hide out to come and get me.”

            “Damn you for making so much sense.” She cursed, leaning up against him. J chuckled.

            “I think you’re the first person to accuse me of that.” J turned her to look at him. “Now, are you ready?”

 

* * *

 

            “Frost, where is Harley?” J called from his desk, trying not to check his watch for the millionth time. She’d been out there for almost two hours chatting up his employees and patrons. Harley could play well with other children when it suited her needs. Right now, learning J’s world seemed to be sufficient motivation for her to be integrating herself with his ‘colleagues’.

            She had danced briefly, making J want to gouge the eyes out of everyone who had seen her, but it was effective for blending in. Frost had been keeping watch and updating him every few minutes and it seemed that Harley was taking her damn time getting acquainted with the club. A small part of J told him that it served him right for giving her a homework assignment (though that didn’t stop him from pouting). She was a big girl and could take care of herself. No sense in making her think he didn’t trust her to not get killed. Frost was leaning in closer to the screen and playing with a dial when the monotonous thrum of the bass was interrupted by a loud gun shot and screams.

            “Frost! Where is Harley?” Joker demanded, jumping up from his seat.

            “Lost visual on her five minutes ago- but she was next to the chain dancers.” Frost responded rapidly from his monitor.

            “What do you mean ‘lost visual’?” J growled back dangerously.

            “Sorry boss,” Frost quickly corrected, “the view of her is blocked by the crowd. Give me a minute to adjust the north-west camera and see if I can’t find her.”

            “Give me a location,” Joker snarled.

            “Scanning boss. It’s a zoo in there.” Joker grabbed his guns from the desk and was reaching for his favored switch blade when his door burst open. Two of the enforcers he kept at the club dragged a defiant, pale woman into the room.

            “Harley,” he growled, looking her up and down for sign of injury. “What the fuck?” He demanded, his worry bleeding into anger. She was covered in blood but judging by the splatter it was from someone else. Her dress was ripped badly down the front exposing her left breast, but she didn’t have any serious visible injuries.

            “Sorry to interrupt Boss. This lady just shot Marcus but one of your guys said we needed to bring her here before we took care of her.” One of the hulking men explained while avoiding eye contact.

            “I’m fine, thank you boys!” Harley said, all too sweetly while swatting their hands off before crossing her arms and scowling at them, smearing blood from her right arm all over her chest.

            “What just happened!” J demanded again, trying to piece together the events of the last minute.

            “Well my two new buddies right here, whose names I somehow didn’t catch while they dragged me in here- sorry about that. Anyway, their friend Marcus made the itsy-bitsy mistake of thinking I was one of his girls and decided to sample the goods, which is a bad business practice. Silly me, for some reason in the process of getting his hands out from under my dress I  mighta snapped something.” One of the men took Harley’s shoulder and cut off her speech by shaking her roughly.

            “The bitch broke Marcus damn arm and fucking shot-” He shouted at Joker before being interrupted by a loud gunshot. J hadn’t so much as break eye contact with Harley while he whipped out his gun from its holster and shot the man between the eyes.

            “Is that so.” Joker said quietly, with a dangerously empty voice. Harley didn’t react to the dead man next to her but the enforcers who had filed in the room looked at each other in anxious confusion. “Pray tell, what happened next.”

            “Well Puddin’ this Marcus character wasn’t too happy that I gave his tough guy status a booboo- ‘specially ‘cause he thought I was one of the dancers. I think Harleen would say his daddy didn't model good coping strategies around his mommy ‘cause he decided the best way to deal with that was to rip my brand-new dress to show of my girls.”

            Jokers teether were audibly grinding as he bit back his words. The idea of anyone else touching Harley, of anyone else seeing her, made him homicidal in a way that few other things could.

            “I’m not sure he was the brightest though, somehow managed not to notice I was armed while reaching for the goods. He seemed very surprised when I interrupted his monologue about, what was is? Oh yes, how he was gonna choke me with his ‘monster cock’ by shooting him in said allegedly monster cock. Whoops.” Harley giggled, keeping a smug grin plastered on her face. J could see her rage simmering just below the surface as she tried to keep her silly, murderous, sex-kitten facade in place.

            “Frost, do you recall what I said last time you were involved with an incident hurting Miss Quinn?” Joker said in monotone, his eyes never leaving Harley’s.

            “Yes Boss.” Frost said in a tense voice.

            “Harley, do you want to kill Frost?” Joker asked, his voice dangerously empty.

            “Hmm,” Harley paused, think it over. The remaining enforcers behind her looked shocked, staring openly at the woman their boss had apparently given some degree of power to. “Not tonight.” Harley concluded. J looked at her seriously for a moment before nodding.

“Frost.” Joker said in monotone, his eyes never leaving Harley’s.

            “Yes Boss,” he responded nervously.

            “Get the fuck out of our sight.”

            “Yes sir.” Frost said quickly, all but sprinting out of the room.        

            “Boys,” Joker continued, “check to see if Miss Quinn’s little friend is dead. If he is, clean up the scene and get rid of him.” J hadn’t ever shot someone in the crotch but there were enough arteries in the region it would be surprising if the fucker hadn’t bled out already. “If he isn’t, kill him. Slowly. I’ll even throw in a 10K prize for each of you if the way you kill him makes me laugh.” The men nodded enthusiastically, backing out of the room. One man was left standing, his head deferentially down.

            “What do you want?” Joker growled.

            “Sir, Marcus was the one in charge of the strippers. Who do you want to take over?” The man said. J paused, struggling to think through his rage.

            “Miss Quinn?” J said, waiting for the glazed look in her eye to fade and for her to come back to him. “Would you like a new job?” J figured she’d be good at it. She was smart, commanded respect, and would probably like getting to escape a warehouse full of men.

            “Sure thing, Puddin’.” She responded. Her face was still mostly blank with no small amount of rage but there was a small smile on the corner of her lips. 

            “Very well then,” J nodded, “problem solved.” He turned to face the man, “now get out.” The man nodded enthusiastically and fled the room.

            Once they were alone, J stared at Harley. He was trying to hold back his need for violence, for his anger. He wanted to skin the man who touched her alive and make everyone in the club watch. Let everyone know who touched her that they were dead men walking. He could feel his hands shaking as he raked them through his hair.

            “Puddin’,” Harley whispered stepping forward cautiously, a combination of fury and something like fear in her eyes. She approached him like a wild animal even as she was obviously trying to hold on herself. J moved quickly, grabbing her arms and pushing her down on the desk.

            “No one else gets to touch you.” He growled over her prone form. Harley’s façade of giggling sex kitten drop as she dug her nails into his shoulder where she had braced herself. “No one else will touch you.” J panted, trying to rein himself in. Containing his furry, trying not to run out the door to beat whatever was left of Marcus to an unrecognizable pulp or just shooting everyone he saw until his clip ran empty. J let out a choked laugh at his shaking hands- unsure if they were trembling with rage or some fucked up version of desire.

            He pushed himself away from the desk and began to pace, as if walking somehow would drown out his need to possess Harley. His physical need for her wasn’t in itself a new feeling. But the sheer violence of the need to possess, to claim was making it hard to breathe. Even as he broke out in a cold sweat and his heart felt like beating out of his chest, he could feel his pants tightening in some fucked up instinctual response to _his_ girl being hurt.

            “Don’t want me anymore Puddin’?” Harley laughed without humor, “Is that it? Someone else tried to play with your toy now it’s all icky and not as fun anymore.” She baby talked in a vicious tone.

            J stopped in his tracks, turning around on his heal and stalking back to her form. Without a word or coherent thought, he pulled her to the edge of the table and kissed her long and hard. He hadn’t noticed her split lip until it busted back open, smearing blood and lipstick over both their faces.

            “You think I don’t want you?” Laughing bitterly, he continued “do you have any idea how much I want to fuck you right now?”

            Harley grabbed his face with bruising force and stared at him with piercing eyes. After a moment her breathing seemed to calm, if only slightly.

            “Do it. I need it.” She growled, moving her hands to his hair and slamming their lips back together. It was more violent than elegant but neither seemed to notice of care. J gave it as good as he got it, pressing his lips desperately against hers and pulling her hips to the edge of the desk against himself. Suddenly he pushed her away, and stared at her

            “I won’t be nice.” He gasped in what might have been a warning. Harley just ginned a bloody smile in response.

            “Since when are either or us nice?” Harley whispered as she leaned in closer to his ear, biting at the lob before adding, “show me who I belong to.”

            J closed his eyes, panting for a minute while he fought with himself.  Abruptly his tense stillness broke as he ripped her dress the rest of the way open before launching himself back at her. Gentle wasn’t something either of them excelled at.

            Her hands were everywhere, pulling on his hair, scratching at his neck, tearing at his shirt. J was beyond thought, completely motivated by an instinct and primal need to reaffirm their togetherness and fuck away any memory of another man’s touch.

            “Don’t stop,” Harley gasped against his lips. J hadn’t even noticed his hands working up her thighs and trailing to her center. But now that it had his attention, he was absorbed by the sight of her damp panties. Normally he’d pause to stare at them, enjoy the sight of Harley all dressed up in something special. But tonight, he dropped to his knees and bit through the delicate bands of lace that held her panties in place, nipped roughly at her inner thigh, and pressed a long, wet kiss to her clitoris.

            “Puddin’!” Harley yelled, locking her fingers in his hair and dragging him up to her other set of lips. “Need you,” she moaned incoherently. J nodded enthusiastically, he didn’t think he could wait either.

            She wasn’t quite wet enough, however, and J vowed to baptize his desk in her holy water before the night was out. Staring at her hooded eyes, he trailed a long, tattooed finger along her slit and circled her clit.

            His pointer and middle finger slid into her heat. She was still tense from the adrenaline of what had happened on the dance floor but was quickly warming up. Just several strokes later J felt a rush of wetness and as her hips started to counter his pace. Her moans and gasps grew in volume while her hips began to dance.

 

* * *

  

            Harley could feel herself getting close, just a few more delicious strokes and she’d be there. But she didn’t want to fall without having her man inside her. She placed her hands over his and pushed them to her hip desperately while the other reached for his trousers. Her fingers desperately traced the length of him before tearing at the zipper. She slithered her hand in to his fly and the slit at the front of his silk briefs. His cock was hard as she’d felt it, hot and throbbing and sticky with pre-come. Her other hand slid into his pocket and pulled a condom from his wallet.

            “Fuck. Now, Harley.” J groaned against her bloody lips, his hips thrusting reflexively into her palm. She rolled on the condom, although perhaps more teasingly than was strictly speaking necessary. Harley grinned wickedly up at him, lying back and wrapping her legs around his waist while aligning his cock with her entrance. His first brutal thrust was followed by deep and hard plunges that made Harley choke back screams while her pussy threatened to overflow.

            Their pace was unrelenting. Harley loved the feel of his cock slamming into her, as if J went deep or hard enough, he would become part of her. Like the squishing sounds of her pussy or the thumping of his hips on the desk could drown out her mind. Like his hands clutching at her could erase the way another man’s hands felt on her skin.

            “Harley,” he moaned. J’s hands were relentless. They raked up and down her back, groping at her breasts covered with drying blood, and pulling her face to his. She gasped against his lips as the familiar fire he sparked to life in her started to roar. Her eyes were clenched shut, completely and blissfully overwhelmed by the pace of his body on hers.

            Fuck gentle, fuck careful.

            They both needed rough, desperate, and all fucking consuming. All she needed was him and, even if he wouldn’t admit it, she knew he needed her to. The only way she could express it in the moment was by grinding her hips harder and pulling at his shoulders, urging him to take her with everything he had.

            “Oh, god!” Harley all but screamed, clenching hard around his pistoning length. Her legs tightened around his waist of their own volition making his pubic bone rock against her clitoris and his length slip deeper inside her. “I need this!” She yelled against his lips as she felt more liquid seep from between her legs and on the desk below them. “Need you.” She mumbled.

            J’s eye clenched shut, his face warping into a tortured grimace. He looked like he wanted to push her off of him and pull her closer at the same time. Whatever war he was waging in his head was quickly won as he clung to her harder, holding her steady against him. He groaned loudly against her lips while his cock twitched dangerously.

            “Yes. Harley, yes.” He hissed as his balls continued to bounce of her ass, her arousal dripping down them. They panted against each other’s lips, struggling to kiss as their bodies worked sweatily against each other. “Only you.” He gasped. Harley wanted to ask what he meant but was too consumed by the fire between her legs. The bliss of his touch.

            “No one else gets to do this to you. No one else will do this to you.” He moaned over the creaking and knocking of his desk beneath them. His hands reached to knead her ass, making Harley throw her head back and moan. She couldn’t sit up anymore, couldn’t keep her lips on his. She loved his touch. His teasing and groping were making her clench desperately around him as she let herself deconstruct underneath her Puddin’.

            J thrust a hand under her head to keep it from banging into the wood as he leaned over her. His free hand wandered up and down her torso, grasping at her breast, scratching at her sides, and pulling her hips against his fast, shallow strokes.  

            “Yes Puddin’” Harley cried out, overwhelmed by the feeling of the head of his cock ramming into her g-spot relentlessly. Her arms wound around his torso of their own volition. She needed to hold on to him. She scraped the line of his spine, the dips of his muscled back, and pulled his now unruly hair. His breath came in gasps against her neck where he was biting and kissing harshly.

            Both were sweating and exhausted, but neither would stop. The discomfort and exhaustion were far second to the overwhelming pleasure building between them. Even pleasure was second to a deep primal need that neither could really name.

             “You’re  _mine_ ,” he purred aggressively. With each thrust the pleasure in her core coiled tighter and tighter, making her eyes roll back as she choked on a silent scream. J’s face was buried in her cleavage, dried blood rubbing off on his cheeks as he sucked relentlessly at her nipples. One of his less-than-delicate bites made her clench around him, forcing a loud growl from his throat.

            “Puddin’! I need you- uh! Puddin’” she began gasping desperately. J only responded with a growl and moving even faster in her dripping core. Her words made J’s cock twitch violently in her, betraying his growing need.

            “You’re  _mine_ , Harley, no one else’s,” he hissed possessively as he pressed his lips to hers.

            “Uuuuuh, yes!” she cried out, “you’re mine too.” Any objection J might haven normally made to her claim was drowned out by their increasingly desperate breaths and the ever louder sound of her pussy around his cock. Harley couldn’t remember ever needing something this much, needing someone like this. All she could do was throw her head back and scrape her fingernails down his chest, across shoulders, over his ass.

            The burn of her fingernails made J growl against her neck and reassert his to pull her harder against him. Both were on the edge and loosing rhythm, losing control to their mutual desperate need. Harley could feel herself pulsing around his twitching cock, both of their spasms getting closer and closer together.

            “No one will ever touch you. I’ll kill everyone who lays a hand on you or tries to take you from me.” J swore. He didn’t often show his hand, but every now and then his protective streak would bleed out. In this moment that bleeding made Harley’s stomach clench with her imminent climax. J’s hand wiggled between their bodies to circle her clit, but she didn’t need it. She was already there.

            “Fuck! Puddin’. I’m gonna… I’m gonna- fuck!” She moaned against his lips before her spine arched sharply and she gave into the pleasure that was pouring through her. “I’m coming, Come with me. Uhh- come for me,” she screamed.

            Even through the barrier of the condom, the sensation of her wetness clenching around him drove J over the edge.

            “Harley!” He gasped, falling against her breasts as his cock pulsed violently inside of her. The two thrust unevenly against each other a few more times before coming to rest, just holding each other’s sweaty bodies and struggling to regulate their breathing.

            For a moment nothing mattered it was just them. Her mind was silent. They were still. Harley looked down to kiss the top of her lover’s head when she realized she was still covered in blood. And she remembered just whose and why. J must have felt her tense up and propped up his torso to look at her closely.

 

* * *

 

            J wasn’t sure what to say or how to proceed. He knew she didn’t like being manhandled (well, by anyone other than him) and something about tonight wasn’t sitting right with her. Not that it was sitting right with him, he was still a little pissed she killed Marcus and J didn’t get a go at him but figured it was fair. If he had to guess fucking her through the desk probably wasn’t the most productive way to respond to that situation but they both had wanted it and… well he didn’t have another reason.

            “You’re upset.” J said, looking her in the eye and tracing his thumb over her lower lip, trying to keep an even voice. His eyeliner was more smudged than usual, and his lip stick was a mess, his entire face had blotches of dark rust colored stains from her chest, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.

            “Yes I am. I’m pissed off he touched me. Other people don’t get to use that against me anymore.” Harley all but spat, making J wonder just what she meant. “I feel nauseous, furious, and kind of like I want to cry.” Harley paused, taking a deep breath before giggling. “But shooting him in the dick made me feel better.”

            “Did this,” J gestured to their sweaty bodies, “make it worse?”

            “No.” Harley said with conviction.

             “Other than shooting him in the dick again, what would turn that frown upside down?” He asked, placing his smiling tattoo over her mouth before running his hand down her neck and onto the desk next to her head. He knew what to do when she was injured. He knew what to do when her voices got too loud. He knew what to do when she was furious. He didn’t know what to do when she was hurting.

            “I’m ok, J.” Harley said, pressing her lips to his shoulder. “I can take care of myself. Big, stupid men who think they have a right to my body are nothing new. Even Harleen coulda taken care of him. Though, I like my way better.” J laughed bitterly at her words. “Part of me wants to stay but I think the party is kind of over.” She shrugged sadly. J didn’t want to admit it, but she was right. His employees would stay and a few desperate dealers seeking his favor would hang around, but the crowd was gone.

            “True. But they’ll be back tomorrow, and I think you already made a name for yourself tonight. I imagine the strippers and waitresses will be telling of your legend, especially now that you’re their boss.” Harley chuckled into his chest. “We’re not going anywhere, and neither is the club.”

            “I can come back tomorrow?” Harley asked, her eyes wide.

            “Of course, why couldn’t you?”

            “I made a scene and shot one of your men and…” Harley trailed off looking angry.

            “I shoot my own men fairly frequently, it’s not exactly a new phenomena. Besides, you proved you can more than take care of yourself. And you did it in a very funny way.” J giggled.

            “You’re not mad at me?” She asked in small voice, her eyes darting away from his. J frowned, tilting her to face him.

            “Of course, I’m not mad at you.” He kissed her lightly. “I want to kill Frost and my enforcers and find a way to bring Marcus back and kill him again. But I’m not mad at you.”

            “You still want me?” She asked again, her eyes distant.

            “Of course.”

            “If you promise I can come back tomorrow, then I want to go home.”

            “Then so it shall be!” J proclaimed, internally swearing she was staying by his side or within eyesight the entire time. “Slappy will get your stuff tomorrow, let’s go home.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Harley was staring at her dress from last night trying to figure out if it was salvageable before it was time to leave and if it was gauche to wear the same dress two nights in a row when J burst into their room with a big grin on his face.

            “I got a surprise for you, doll!” J announced.

            “Ooh, two days in a row? You’re spoiling me. What is it Puddin’?” Harley asked, giving up on trying to figure out to wear to the club just yet.

            “Well my dear, it’s actually three presents so you better sit down!” He smiled. Harley dramatically collapsed in one of the purple arm chairs, pretending to swoon before righting herself and bouncing up and down like a child.

            “Now number one is a new outfit. Consider it a redo of last night, bigger and better than ever. I do have a reputation to uphold, so until you and Slappy can go get you a proper wardrobe I will be supplying it- one dress at a time!” He giggled, smiling broadly

            “Oh, Puddin’ that’s so sweet of you! Can I see it?” She asked, a grin splitting her face. J liked to look his best, so it wasn’t surprising he wanted her dressed right, but she still loved that he thought of her when he was out and about.

            “Na-uh! Two more presents first!” He said, walking over to her and flopping himself sideways in her lap so his torso with his feet each hanging over the side of the arm chair.

            “Puddin you’re too heavy! Get off you great lug!” She giggled, not really meaning it, throwing her arms around him.

            “How rude, Miss. Quinn, I never!” He giggled, throwing his head back over the arm rest, tottering dangerously in her lap. He looked over towards the door where he left her present giving Harley an accidental view of his neck. She didn’t remember if she used to find necks attractive, she didn’t think so, but she was attracted to just about everything about her Puddin’. His tattoos were beautiful, especially the ones he did himself. Her eyes were caught by a patch of red skin down the side of his neck.

            She was somewhat worried he had injured himself and forgotten to make sure it wasn’t a problem again. He had come home with a stab wound on his bicep and a burn from his gun a week or two ago. After a good dressing down, he had agreed to let her be Nurse Quinn for the foreseeable future. Harley reached over to flipped down the collar of his jacket. A loud squeal escaped her lips as her hands shot to her mouth, too shocked to say a word. Unfortunately, her hands had been the only thing holding him in place and J fell right to the floor.

            “Harley! What the hell?” He exclaimed, looking indignant from the floor before noticing her expression and where her eyes were. “Oh, that. Surprise?” He said, looking something approaching sheepish. Harley leaped off the arm chair and on to his lap, pushing off his emerald jacket to stare at his latest tattoo. It was an ornate, gothic red harlequin diamond about the size of her palm with a lace-like black border with the letters H and Q in the center. Launching herself at him, she kissed him for all she was worth.

             “You beautiful. Thoughtful. Sexy man.” She said between kisses, “do have any idea…” She said trailing off, distracted by a sudden need for her Puddin’ to be naked underneath her.

 

* * *

 

            J wasn’t sure how Harley would respond to his latest addition, but he liked where it was going. Her kisses only paused to lick his new tattoo before biting at his chest and sucking a nipple into her mouth while raking her nails through his hair. J tried to keep still, but fuck it was hard when Harley seemed to know his body better than he did.

            It was good he had white face paint lying around for the goons to put on during their pranks otherwise he would need to wear his shirts buttoned up to hide the trail of hickeys she was leaving across his abdomen. He never knew how sensitive the skin of his stomach and hips were until Harley’s lips and teeth played with him. Her little nibbling bites. The burn of suction. The first time she did that he nearly came on the spot. Now he had better control, but if she didn’t touch him where he needed her in the next minute, he would have to flip her over and-

 

* * *

 

            “You like that Puddin’?” Harley purred at him, “well you just lie there and let your girl take care of you.” From her position, kneeling between his knees, she could feel his erection twitch when she called herself his girl and could barely keep herself from grinning. Harley sat up, pulling off her shirt and exposing her bra-less breasts. “Let’s see if we can’t make this even better.”

            Harley crawled down his body, letting her breasts rub against his legs and her mouth coming painfully close to his tented dress pants. Her hands quickly slipped off his shoes and undid the buttons on his fly. She pulled down his dark green trousers, exposing the dark pre-come stain on his silk briefs that Harley found almost painfully arousing. Unable to stop herself, she leaned down and gave the tip of his penis and slow open mouth kiss though his briefs.

 

* * *

 

            J gasped, knotting his hands in her hair. After her little stunt across his torso, he needed her. His penis was throbbing angrily for relief and his balls felt like they had doubled in size.

            “Nu-uh Puddin’, I told you we’re gonna make it even better tonight.” She chastised, slipping off his briefs. “Now, where were we?” She dropped her head back down, making J internally cheer, thinking she was returning to his dick. Instead, she paid his inner thighs the same torturous attention she had given his torso. He wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, but it felt like hours and his erection was becoming almost painful. Unable to stop himself, he began to stroke himself. It wasn’t a matter of arousal anymore, it was life and death. Death by blue balls wasn’t how he planned on going out.

            “Pudin’! You’re breaking the rules. Lie there like a good boy and let Harley show you something special.” She cried, smacking his hands away.

            “Then hurry up and show me!” He responded, uncaring of how desperate he sounded.

            “Does my Puddin’ need something?” Harley asked, the devil glinting in her eyes. “Does he need to be touched by his girl?” She continued, gratified with the slight grunting noise that escaped his chest. “Well what about this?” She asked, taking a breast in each hand and pressing them together around his erection and slowly moving them up and down.

            “Fuck! Harley!” He choked out around a groan. He couldn’t decide which was better, the visuals of her on her knees with his dick disappearing and reappearing between her breasts or the sensation of her soft skin enveloping him. They had never done anything like this before and between the anxiety of showing her the new tattoo, the teasing, and now what-ever-the-fuck-this-was he was fighting not to come.

            J was pretty sure he was in nirvana or heaven or some alternate dimension. He’d had quite a few fantasies about Harley breasts, and this seemed like the ultimate culmination of them. The idea of covering her with his come had him grunting through clenched teeth as he fought the tingle in his balls.

 

* * *

 

            Harley loved watching his face in moments like this. The way his jaw tensed. The place where his eyebrows would have been furling down. His eyes going from wide open staring at her to crushed shut. She loved hearing him moan, knowing she was the only one who saw him like this. Loved knowing she could make him loose control.

            She could feel her arousal soaking through her panties, but right now it was about him. And he seemed to be enjoying it if the dots of precum trailing down her breasts and over her fingers were any indication. His moans came faster together, and Harley could feel his legs tensing beside her. She knew if she kept going and picked up the pace just a little, he’d be coming in minutes. But that wasn’t her plan.

            “Harley! Fuck, why did you stop?” He groaned, frustrated she had pulled away.

            “Get up, I’m not done with you yet.” She smiled. She sashayed over to the bed and crawled to the center, sticking her ass out for him because she knew he liked it. Once there she rolled over and spread her arms but kept her legs closed.

 

* * *

 

            "Harley?” He asked again, walking towards her feeling like all the blood in his body was pooling in his cock.

            “Grab the massage oil and come over here. I’ll show you what to do.” She winked at him. J did as she said, slightly annoyed she had stopped and wondering if he should to go back to doing what they were doing before. Or, rather, he was wondering that until she started rubbing the massage oil into her breasts (which he would have taken a picture of and framed if he was sure one of his goons wouldn’t accidentally stumble on it) and told him to straddle her chest.

            “Just like that, baby” she said, pulling his knees to her armpits, placing his hands on her breasts, and pressing his cock down on to her sternum. He could squeeze her breasts and play with her nipples while he pressed them together as tight as he needed around his cock. He controlled the pace, slowly thrusting himself into the oil-slicked passage she created. J had thought what they were doing on the floor was bliss, he was wrong, this was. Or at least he thought it was until she redefined ecstasy itself by lifting her head and putting her mouth around the tip of his cock.

            “Fuck!” He nearly yelled, completely unprepared for the unexpected pleasure. When he thrust forward the first third of his cock dipped into her hot mouth that sucked at him relentlessly. When he pulled back, just the tip stayed in her mouth. Her tongue would dance around it, flicking at his slit and making circles around the head.

            “Shit, Harley” his voice cut off with a moan. “This is too much, fuck.” He groaned, thrusting faster over her prone body. Squeezing harder at her breasts, making her moan around his cock. “I’m not gonna last, fuck” He panted, “you’re too much.” Harley glowed at his praise, redoubling her efforts. Sucking harder, moving her tongue more firmly, scratching her nails down his inner thighs.

            She pulled away quickly to moan, “Come for me J. All over me.” Before lowering her mouth to him again, flicking her eyes up to his, knowing he liked the visual. J didn’t know where to look. Her beautiful face, watching her suck his cock? Or her tit’s enveloping his cock, bouncing around him and covered lines of his precum that sparkled in the low lighting. All of a sudden, her hands were pulling at his balls and her mouth got tighter around him. He couldn’t fight the waves of pleasure that seemed to radiate from his pelvis and across his body. Taking her word at face value, he ripped himself from her mouth and thrusted harder between her breasts three more times before coming with a loud grunt.

            He watched in rapture as his come burst from between her tits, splattered over her nipples, sprayed onto her lips, and pooled across her neck. J did his best to collapse sideways and not crush his girl under his suddenly floppy and heavy limps. He lay there in silence, to stunned to speak, staring at the glistening tracks of come that decorated her body like jewels. It was the most glorious thing he’d ever fucking seen.

 

* * *

 

            Harley didn’t disagree. She wished she could watch the moment he lost control, listen to his groans, over and over. Wanted the moment his cum arched over her chest and on to her skin etched in her mind. Puddin’ was always beautiful. But in that moment, he was fucking perfect.

            “Fuck, Harley. I absolutely never want to know where you learned that, but fuck.” He groaned. He reached out, pulling her close and kissing her hard and long. Harley had done a pretty good job controlling her arousal until that moment when her pent-up moans escaped her lips. She arched her back, crushing herself to her Puddin’, desperate for contact. Neither seemed to notice or care that his come was smearing against his chest and face.

            “Please,” she gasped, hooking her leg around his waist. “I need…” she trailed off, gasping as J stood and pulled her so her legs were hanging over the side of the bed.

            “Dirty girls like you need to be cleaned off.” He growled against her lips, before sucking his come off of her left nipple.

            “Yes, I do.” She moaned, throwing her head back. J kissed her hard, making it impossible to think. He pushed himself down her body, kneeling on the floor in front of her to worship her other set of lips.

 

* * *

 

            “Pudin’, you turned me into pudding again.” She giggled. Rolling his eyes, he stood on his somewhat numb legs and hauled her onto his chest. “Mmh, how many hours till we have to be at the club?” She slurred, ready to fall asleep.

            “I own it. We don’t have to be there until we want to be.” He grunted, equally tired.

            “Mkay, good.” She was about to fall asleep when she remembered what started their little sexcapade. “Puddin?” She asked only to get a grunt in reply. “What was the last present?”

            “You got the dress, which I guess I didn’t show you but it’s over there somewhere,” he grunted, pointing generally by the door.

            “Then you saw this,” he added tilting his head to show off the new tattoo, “which I’m guessing you liked.”

            “Puddin’ if you couldn’t tell I liked it than I am happy to show you again… and again… and again… after a nap.” She giggled, pressing a kiss to the tattoo.

            “And number three… well I’m not sure if it is a present or not.” He rolled onto his side to look at her more directly. “Last night made me fucking homicidal.” He growled, “I mean, more so than usual. Knowing you could handle yourself is intoxicating and shooting him in the dick was the perfect end. But the fact someone under me he thought he had the right to touch you… made me wish he had a second dick for _me_ to shoot off. Or cut, knives are more fun.” He giggled.

            “You know I didn’t want his hands on me Puddin’, right?” She asked with a dangerous giggle.

            “Of course I know that, but I still don’t like it. The next man that touches you is going to get skinned alive.” he growled.

            “Well then what do you wanna do ‘bout it? I know you already have an idea.” She said, smiling up at him.

            “Normally, I’d just skin enough people for the rest to figure out not to do it,” he shrugged, “but that would require more fuckers laying their hands on you. So, I had an idea that Harleen is going to hate…” He said, sounding unsure.

            “Well you got my attention!” Harley laughed, “anything to piss her off!”

            “People are very, very stupid. But anyone in Gotham knows a few things, 1) calling the cops is a waste of time, 2) sunlight only exists in Metropolis, and 3) if you want to live, don’t touch things that belong to the Joker. You’re not a thing but… you are mine. Once Gotham knows that, no one in any of my clubs will fuck with you.” He said, sounding somewhat nervous.

            “Well Pudin’, how you wanna let them know?” Harley beamed up at him, delighting in his words.

            “Ah, now we get to the part that Harleen hates.” He paused, his voice getting thick and unsure like the night he’d requested for her to go for a swim at ACE. “Gotham is too stupid to understand, fuck knows how long it will take them to figure out that you don’t just follow me around like a psychotic duckling. If we want them to fuck off and treat you royalty, the best way to do that is to mark you.”

            “Whady’a mean?” Harley asked, thrilled he wanted to protect her but less than thrilled everyone thought she was just pussy with a gun. But he was right, Gotham would never understand. How could they? They never saw her Puddin’ like this. They only saw his art (or mass casualty events, it really was a matter of perspective). The fact he called her royalty was rather distracting and definitely required thinking about later…

 

* * *

 

            “How do you feel about a new tattoo?” He asked, interrupting her chain of thought, reasonably certain she would tell him to get fucked and storm out of the room.

            “Is that why you got yours?” She asked after a pause. “To let everyone, know that you and I are… well, to warn everyone else,” she corrected, obviously not wanting to attempt to categorize their relationship.

            “Why couldn’t you be the oblivious kind of crazy?” He asked, slightly annoyed.

            “I wouldn’t be half as much fun Pudin’. Now answer the question.” She said, laughing.

            “We are on the same level,” he paused, trying not to say they were equals because that was a terrifying thought. “You aren’t a copy of me, two of me would break some kind of law of physics and the universe would crumble.” He said, trying to avoid mentioning anything about feelings. “But our jokes make the others funnier… You’re going to be there once we’re done remaking Gotham.” He paused, trying to decide if he needed to say anything more.

            “Your crazy fits my crazy.” Harley said, smiling at him. “I love you, Puddin’. Now stop talking about feelings before you have a heart attack.” She patted him on the chest and rolled on to her stomach where he couldn’t see her grin and happy tears. “Add whatever you think will get the creeps to fuck off. But if you draw a dick- I won’t touch yours until it the tattoo is completely removed.”

            J laughed in relief as he stood to go get the tattoo gun from the closet. She understood what he was trying to tell her and didn’t make him talk about it. Just another reason to love her. J stumbled, nearly impaling himself on the tattoo gun, realizing what he just thought.

            “I am so fucked.” He muttered under his breath, glad Harley was already asleep, and began the ‘Property of Joker’ tattoo.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... whadaya think? Let me know in the comments below! You guys keep me motivated. I'm currently working on the final edits on chapter 8 and it's kicking my ass a little, so keep your residential hungry fanfic author fed with comments and messages.


	6. Coronation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley was trying to be sneaky. It was hard to do anything in the hideout without Puddin’ figuring it out, but she was doing her damndest. Her best bet was to make whatever she was up to seem boring. He had gotten her so many presents that she figured it was her turn to give him one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday and welcome back to a very important chapter. I can’t wait (and am a little scared) to hear what you think of this chapter. This is one of the longest chapters so far but once I started, I couldn't stop myself.  
> Songs: Applause- Lady Gaga; Gasoline- Halsey; Dysfunctional- Tech9; Ruin My Life – Zara; Heaven in Hiding – Halsey

            All of Gotham whispered that their Clown Prince of Crime had an accomplice, but no one seemed to know who she was or where she came from. To an outsider, you would think the pair hadn’t heard the gossip. In the months since her appearance their plots, murders, maimings, heists and fatal pranks didn’t slow down, if anything they were more disturbingly cutesy. At one murder scene, every victim was found with a Frankensteind teddy bear under their arm and lipstick stains on their forehead from a macabre kiss goodnight. Not that Harley kissed them, Mr. J wasn’t going to let another man touch her (even if he was dead at the time). He thought the scene was funny, Harley had a deliciously twisted mind, almost as funny as watching his goons being told to put on lipstick and kiss the bodies.

            Their days were more variable. Usually they would get back from the club or their latest adventure just before sunrise and eat whatever the three Michelin star chef he kidnapped from a restaurant Harley had always wanted to go to. Then they would go to bed together in what J kept catching himself calling ‘their bedroom.’ 

            But most days they came home laughing and would get into some sort of faux fight (their paintball and water gun fights came to a screeching halt for about a month when Harley found out he couldn’t remember ever being in a food fight and made it her mission to make up for lost time). At least once a week Harley would do a private silk show for him that inevitably ended with one of them tied in mid-air while the other had their way with them. Sometimes Harley would fall asleep reading while waiting for her Puddin’ to come to finish working and come to bed. Every day was different, but it almost always ended in their naked bodies sleepily intertwined under the covers.

 

* * *

 

            Harley was trying to be sneaky. It was hard to do anything in the hideout without Puddin’ figuring it out, but she was doing her damndest. Her best bet was to make whatever she was up to seem boring. He had gotten her so many presents that she figured it was her turn to give him one. Condoms were a brilliant invention, lord knew she’d benefited enough from them. But it wasn’t like they were sleeping with anyone else or that she was too disgusted by him to let him come in her. On the contrary, unlike with her previous partners where she’d enjoyed the literal and metaphorical barrier between them, she actively fantasized about it. Judging by how much he liked looking at his come on her body, she had a feeling he felt the same.

            Today she had the perfect excuse to be out an about without her Puddin’ wondering where she’d gone. Harley looked at the small crowd of women who had filled into her new office. It wasn’t as big as J’s but given it was just as fancy and that he had converted a storage room without her asking him to, she wasn’t about to complain. It had taken a couple of weeks but, since that Harley had wanted to do some background research on her new employees, it had been a useful break. She took a long drink of whiskey to hide her nerves. This was so far out of her comfort zone that she wasn’t even sure where to start.

            There were about fifteen women sitting on various surfaces and leaning against the walls looking skeptically at the pale woman behind the gold and glass desk. Most of them were in their twenties but a few longer standing dancers were in their mid-thirties. None of them were wearing much, jean shorts and micro miniskirts with crop tops or almost nonexistent minidresses. But they all were respectfully silent as they looked dubiously at their new boss.

            “Alrighty, hun-buns! This everyone?” Harley asked in an intentionally thick Brooklyn accent as if she didn’t know.

            “Yup.” One woman eventually said, popping her gum at Harley. “Mind if I light up?” She asked holding up an unlit cigarette. Harleen didn’t smoke but Harley had grown to tolerate, if not enjoy, them.

            “Go for it.” She smiled back, making the women look at each other uneasily. Their main boss, Mr. J, only smiled before something bad happened and their old supervisor Marcus only smiled before he told you to take your clothes off.

            “Now, you already know me, and I know some of you but let’s get the boring intros out of the way- Hi’ya I’m Harley Quinn blah, blah, blah your new boss.” Harley got up from the table and began to strut around the room, grinning while looking the women up and down. “Now I wanna be your friend. You don’t wanna make your new friend upset, do you? Let’s get a few ground rules going.” Harley tapped the side of her mouth thoughtfully as if she hadn’t spent days trying to figure out what she was going to say.

            “Okay! Numbah one, you gotta problem? You come to me- not some henchmen or goon or enforcer. If I find out you’re taking your problems to someone else, you and I will have problems.” Harley had some idea of the complaints the girls had been making and didn’t want her authority undermined by someone else talking care of them.

            “Numbah two! I don’t give a shit if you turn tricks with the clients as long as you don’t do it while I’m paying you to be dancing. Feel free to recruit but do the deed on your own time. Because I’m so nice, I won’t even take a cut.” She stopped and looked pointedly at two of her new girls.

            “Numbah three! I don’t give a shit what you’re on as long as you do your job. If you show up sloppy there are no second chances.” Harley paused in front of a woman with bright blue hair whose arms were crossed angrily. Harley giggled, women weren’t as transparent as men but playing with them was still so fun.

            “Number four,” Harley dialed her accent back to its natural cadence and looked evenly at the women assembled in front of her without a trace of humor on her face. “I know your old boss Marcus fucked most if not all of you before I killed him. I don’t care if you fuck other henchmen, goons, or enforcers as long as long as it’s not when I’m not paying you to be on the stage. Only thing I care about is what you see and hear on the dance floor. The only thing that valuable about you is the dirt you can tell me.” Harley perched on her desk and took a long drink of whiskey. “Any questions?” She asked with an arched brow and a big grin, her eyes dancing as if at a joke only she was in on.

            “Yeah, who the fuck are you?” Asked an older woman who had gone through one (or more) too many boob jobs from the back of the room. Harley grinned and cocked her head to the side while twirling a pig tail.

            “Well Becky, I’m sorry you only let your mommy call you that. You go by Star these days, don’t you, Rebecca? I thought that was kinda funny, you can’t see too many stars in this part of town. The smog has a way of choking them out,” Harley smiled toothily while the woman went slightly pale. Getting information on the strippers had been a pain in the ass but it was worth it.

            “Well Star, I already told you I’m your boss, you saw me shoot Marcus, you’ve seen me with my Puddin’. So, I’m confused ‘bout what exactly you’re confused by.” Harley cocked her head to the side, grinning.

            The woman went silent, glaring at Harley. The silence stretched on for several long more seconds before a woman began to laugh.

            “Ooh you sure showed her Star!” A young woman with long, braided, dark hair snorted. “Wake up on the wrong side of your car today, sweetie? Or did you crash at a john’s house and not have time to grab coffee?” The group of women began to giggle. She then turned to Harley and raised her hand sarcastically, “Teacher, I got a question. Will you shoot all the guys who get too handsy in the dick or was that just reserved for the old boss?” The whole room burst out laughing. Harley smiled to herself. This just might work out.

            An hour later, after the last of the women had left, Harley pulled out a bag of ‘normal’ clothes she’d hidden under the desk. She snuck out the back door and into one of their boring cars. She hadn’t tried to use her latest fake ID yet, but she figured that testing it out on a free family planning clinic down town was a low stakes place to test it out. If she just wanted the pill she could have had any of their guys break into a pharmacy- but life as Harley Quinn was far too erratic to trust that she would remember to take it every day. She often didn’t even know what day it was. Unfortunately, there were somethings you need an expert for, and while Harleen had observed the implant being put in during med school Harley didn’t particularly want to wing it on herself.

            An hour later, Harley emerged from the clinic rubbing her left bicep. It was more annoying than painful, she’d been shot and stabbed enough to put hurt in perspective. But what was done was done. In one week, once it started working, she would have a hell of a surprise for her Puddin’ that he was going to love.

  

* * *

 

 

            “Finally ready to go, hot stuff?” J asked, running his hand up Harley’s thigh as she slid into the passenger seat of his purple Lamborghini not bothering to hide his exasperation. It had never occurred to him that women could take so long to get ready. He could have gone through at least two more playthings in the time it took her to primp and preen herself. She kept insisting they were going to be on TV and she needed to look her best, but given the various explosions he had planned it wasn’t as if the news would be getting a clear shot of either of them.

            “Sure thing.” She giggled, flipping up the hem of her skirt to display an impressive array of deadly toys. J rose a naked eyebrow at the view.

            “Are you sure you haven’t forgotten anything?” he growled, letting his fingers trail up her leg and trace the seam of her exposed labia.

            “Nope.”

            “Are you trying to get me killed?” he laughed.

            “What!” She shrieked back, slapping his chest.

            “I’m supposed to be focused on introducing our lovely city to the prisoner’s dilemma and now I’m going to be thinking about a certain someone standing next to me with all their charms on full display.” J chuckled, waving on a small fleet of incognito vans and cars driven by his various henchman.

            “Only for you, Puddin’” She smirked back, flipping her skirt back down, hiding her weapons and pantie-less crotch. “Now let’s get going. The sooner we leave the sooner we get to play with Gotham’s finest. Besides, your Harley has a surprise for you tonight.” She purred. J raised a naked eyebrow, curious and more than a little aroused by the prospect of a mystery surprise from his girl.

            “Patience, Little Monster. We have some games to play first, time to show the great and good what they really are.” He laughed dangerously while pulling out of the hideout. “We can’t let Batsy think we’ve abandoned him.”

 

* * *

 

            Harley fidgeted in her seat, her stiletto clad feet propped on the table in front of her while she chain-smoked spliffs and sipped grape soda from a wine glass. She hated nights like this. Yes, getting chased was fun. Yes, getting held hostage could be fun. Yes, breaking each other out of jail was fun. The reunion after a breakout was very, very fun. But she hated the time in between the capture and the reunion. Particularly since the idiot just had to go and get himself captured the night her grand surprise was ready to be unveiled. Stupid fucking implant taking a whole week to kick in.

            She wasn’t nervous about getting her J back, that would be easy enough. It was always fun to pay Arkham a visit. It had only been two days but she missed her Puddin’ (even if she was mad at her idiot clown for ruining her present for him). And she was bored. Bored and angry were a dangerous thing for Harley Quinn to be.

            Exhaling a cloud of smoke, she tapped her spliff on a fake nail making still glowing ashes fall on the expensive booth she was reclined on. She was vaguely aware that she was ruining the leather but couldn’t bring herself to care. Nothing really mattered when her Pudidn’ was gone. All she wanted was him and he was trapped far away. Well, not even really that far away. But still she couldn’t get to him yet so it didn’t matter.

            “Would you like an ash tray, Miss Quinn?” An unwelcome voice volunteered. Harley raised her eyebrow dangerously and looked up to see which body guard decided they were important enough to interrupt her metaphysical and despondent temper tantrum.

            “Ah, Mavis.” Harley grinned sarcastically. “The fuck kind of name is Mavis anyway?”

            “It’s a family name, my mother is from-”

            “That was an insult not an invitation to tell me ya’ family story, big boy. Now, do I look like I want an ash tray?” She tapped her spliff more aggressively to make more hot ash fall on to the leather.

            “No Miss Quinn.” He said shifting awkwardly. Frost and two other enforcers pointedly looked at the ground, privately rolling their eyes at the impressively stupid new guy. It wasn’t exactly rocket science to realize that when Harley was angry and bored she would use any excuse to get her claws in someone.

            “Do I look like I want to be talked to?” She asked again in a sickeningly sweet voice.

            “No Miss Quinn.”

            “Then why are you talking?”

            “I-” he began before she began to laugh.

            “No, no. Be a good boy and go get it. After all this leather is expensive.” She giggled, fluttering her eyelashes at him. Mavis scurried off and returned quickly with a golden dish. He reached to put it down on the table before Harley giggled and sat up. “Have a seat, sweetie. You’re obviously smart if you made it this far and, my goodness, ya must have quiet the pair on ya to speak without being spoken to. It just gets me going.”

            Mavis uncomfortably sat down in the booth. He looked anxiously at the other guards as if they would tell him how to remove himself from the pickle he’d gotten in to.

            “Now, my Puddin’ isn’t here tonight and I’m so bored. And lonely. You are gonna keep me company. Do ya’ like that?” She purred while leaning closer to the young man.

            “Umm…” Mavis began, obviously unsure what the correct answer was.

            “You’re cute when you’re confused.” Harley giggled. She took a long draw of her spliff and reached as if to tap the ash into the dish Mavis had brought her. At the last moment she blew the smoke into his face and extinguished the spliff on the young man’s neck.

            Mavis yelped and pulled away, slapping a hand over the burn.

            “Aw, you’re cute when you’re scared too.” Harley laughed. It was nice to have a toy. It would be so much more fun with her Puddin’, but it would suffice for now. The little idiot in a cheap suit hadn’t really done anything wrong, but he should have known better than to talk to her on a night like this.

            “Excuse me, what do we say when someone gives us a compliment?” Harley giggled in her best patronizing mom voice. “We say, ‘thank you, Miss Quinn’.”

            “Thank you, Miss Quinn.” Mavis ground out between his teeth.

            “Your very welcome!” She turned to her other guards, “Isn’t he sweet?” Her eyes returned to the young man and looked at him skeptically. He was so predictable. And obedient. Just all the other small little Gotham-ites. Just another strong man with a big ego and little brain. He was already boring her.

            “I think it’s your lucky night Mavis. You’re too dull for me. Now normally I’d just kill you, but I want to play a game. Me and Puddin’ like games. Do you?” Harley paused with a big smile in the off chance the man was stupid enough to respond.

            “Here are the rules. You are going to bring me your three favorite girls from the club. If I like any of them, you live. If they are boring little things like you, you die.” She grinned at the rapidly paling man. “Ready? Set. Go!” She cried giggling and clapping her hands.

            Ten minutes (and one or two lines of coke) later a sweaty and pale Mavis returned three girls in tow. She stood and walked over to the line of scantily clad women.

            “Really, Mavis? Star.” Harley glared at the annoying woman in front of her. “Go away Becky.” Star didn’t stick around to push her luck and all but sprinted away as fast as her thong and stilettos would let her.

            The next woman was a pale, boney slip of a thing with wide blood shot eyes that at one point would have been beautiful. Harley circled her like a shark looking her up and down. “Not looking great for your Mavis. At least this one is slightly more fun.” Harley took hold of her chin, twisting this way and that as if she was a psychic or phrenologist who could read someone just by looking at them. “Daddy issues, reactive attachment disorder. Meh, the most interesting thing about this one is that it kisses its johns. Next.” Harley aggressively patted the girls flaming cheek and waved her off to go cry or shoot up in the bathroom.

            “Mavis, two strikes.” She giggled before turning to look at the last women. Whereas the other two women had looked slightly scared and detached, this one looked irritated. Harley recognized her as the dancer who'd spoken up in their meeting earlier this week and who had some rather amusing insults for Star. The detective she'd put on the case of researching her new girls hadn't come back with files for her yet, she was too new. Harley had killed her predecessor less than two weeks ago for flirting with her Pudidn'.

           “Ooh, this new one is spunky. What is it’s name?”

            “Jemma.” She said, glaring at Harley. “Can I go back now? I’m losing out on tips.” Harley laughed; it was always funny when someone thought they had power over her.

            "The adults are talking right now." Harley crooned condescendingly, placing her hand over the woman's mouth. She then turned back to the man as if Jemma hadn't spoken. "What is it's name, Mavis?"

            "Her name is Jemma." Mavis said quietly.            

            "Good boy." Harley moved her hand from Jemma's mouth to her chin. She turned her face this way and that and began to realize that under all the glitter and eyeliner, the woman was more of a girl than anything else. "How old are you Jemma? You're allowed to speak now.” Harley said while flopping back on to the booth’s couch.

            “Nineteen.”

            “Bullshit.” Harley laughed.

            “I turned nineteen last week!” She snapped back angrily, her voice cracking slightly. Harley looked at her critically.

            “Sixteen tops.” Harley said in a dead voice.

            “Am not!” The girl cried.

            “Mavis!” Harley snapped.

            “Yes, Miss Quinn?” He said dutifully and with no small amount of fear in his voice.

            “How long has it worked here?”

            “Just started Tuesday.” He mumbled, looking uneasy.

            “Get it some clothes then figure out who hired it. Kill whoever hired it, and for fucks sake, do it in a funny way for once.”

            “Yes, Miss Quinn.” He said before power walking away. Harley stared into the distance for a beat too long, clearly not really there for a moment, before snapping back to reality.

            "I don't need your help." The girl snapped.

            "Yes you do but I wasn't offering it. Now, sit.” Harley laughed. The girl opened her mouth in defiance only for Harley to cut her off, “I wasn’t asking, baby girl.” The girl slid into the seat looking slightly cowed and crossed her arms grumpily. “Now, how did a little thing like you end up in place like this?”

            “The door.” She quipped making Harley laugh sarcastically and snap her fingers for an underling to bring a second wine glass of grape soda. The girl shifted nervously, her eyes flitting back and forth between the deep purple liquid and Harley.

            “It’s not drugged. If I kill ya it will be much funnier.” Harley rolled her eyes before reaching over to the glass and taking a sip and slamming it back down in front of the girl. “Now drink,” Harley threatened. Jemma reached nervously and took a sip of the soda, making no effort to hide her confusion about Harley's beverage of choice. “Good girl,” she purred.

            “My pimp deals for you.” The girl eventually said. Harley held out her spliff to be relit, took a deep drag and rested her head against the back of the seat. Something about this little thing working the streets made her want to slap the shit out of whoever her pimp was.

            Her face must have shown something like disgust making the girl snort and blurt out “Oh, fuck off, how old were you when you started on the streets?”

            If anyone else had suggested that she was a sex worker she would have killed them without pause (or given them to her Puddin’ for him to teach them some manners). But there was something about Jemma’s voice that made her pause. She obviously wasn’t from around here if she didn’t know where Harley Quinn came from. Probably another run away weaving in and out of the dark corners of Gotham. She could vaguely remember Harleen doing something similar back in Brooklyn, but it was so far away and murky that it was almost a dream.

            “I never worked the streets.” Harley said in a hollow voice.

            “Then what were you?” The girl asked with big, shocked eyes. Harley laughed at the girl’s confusion. It was almost like this little thing didn’t know there were career options beyond stripper, dealer, and sex worker.

            “Lotsa things.” Harley giggled, “I was something of an actress, fancied myself a puppet master.” The combination of incredulous sarcasm and confusion on the girls face for some reason pulled a rare bit of honesty from her. “I was a criminal psychiatrist.” It wasn’t exactly a secret, but it wasn’t common knowledge either.

            “A what?” The girl asked.

            “I got paid to pretend I could make crazy people who broke the rules color inside the lines.” Harley laughed, trying to ignore Harleen’s objections to her description of her previous life.

            “Oh.” A strange look crossed the girls face before she asked, “is that how you met Mr. Joker?” Harley giggled; at least this girl asked fun questions. Lord knew she'd talk about her Puddin' all night long if given half a chance.

            “Yup.” She smiled to herself as she always did when she thought of her man (even when she was mad at him). “There was nothing for me to fix with Puddin’, he was already perfect. I helped bust him out of Arkham last year and he helped me bust out of Harleen. I wasn’t about to let him leave without me.”

            “Whose Harleen?”

            “She was me.” Harley said in a dead voice.

            “Is he back at A- Ark- Whatever the place was called? My pimp said the Bat got him.” The girl asked sounding genuinely curious.

            “Fucking Batsy took my Puddin’ away again. Idiot hasn’t noticed that even Arkham can’t keep him from me.” Harley growled, “I’ll be getting him back soon. No one can keep us apart for very long.”

            “You should bust him out wearing a lab coat or whatever it was that Harleen wore.” Jemma giggled. Harley began to laugh for the first time genuinely since her Puddin’ had been taken and kept cackling until her ribs hurt.

            “I like you, Jemma.” Harley eventually gasped once her laughter tapered off. The girl smiled timidly and took a sip of her soda. Something about this little slip of a thing being pushed around by grimy old men and dealers made her hackles rise. She was far too naive and didn't know nearly enough about Gotham to survive this world. It wasn't as if Harley cared about the girl, but she was entertaining.  Besides, her talents were wasted on the scum paying to watch her dance, particularly when a much more deserving and interesting person such as herself was around to entertain.

            “I’m going to keep you around for now.” Jemma looked at Harley with shock in her eyes. “What don't ya trust me?"

            "Oh, fuck no." The girl blurted out before slapping a hand over her mouth.

            "Thank god, that means you're not completely stupid."

            “Gee, thanks” Jemma said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

            “Shut up. It's a once in a life time deal, honey.  Outside of the club or when I'm not here, you get to do what ever that little heart of your's desires. But when we're both here, you're mine.  It's a win-win. You get protection, goodies from pranks, and the benefit of my illustrious company. Who knows, maybe you'll even learn something. And I don't get bored while my Puddin' is talking shop. And, trust me, I'm much less fun to be around when I'm bored. Ask Mavis.” Harley laughed.

            “I can’t tell if you’re secretly sweet or horrifying.” The girl eventually replied, confusion marring her plain features. Harley burst out in laughter again, wiping tears from her eyes.

            “I'm the bad guy," she snorted. "We're all rotten to the core here. Maybe I should get that tattooed on my face, so no one forgets.” Harley reclined back on the chair wondering how difficult putting together a Harleen costume would be for the next time she broke her Puddin' out. She definitely wasn’t going to dress up for this break out, she was too pissed off at her man to give him a treat like that. In fact, she still needed to figure out how she was going to punish him.

            “Now run along and put on the clothes Mavis got for you. Tell him he gets a pass this time but he’s fresh out of get out of jail free cards.” She said distractedly to the wide eyed girl at her table before lying back down in the booth and taking a deep drag of her spliff.

 

* * *

 

 

            J was almost shaking with barley restrained violence when he stumbled out of the car into the basement of the hideout. One minute he’d been off rigging two charity events to explode, giving both the option to kill the other and save themselves, then the next minute Batman came to join the party. The explosions had been funny but getting separated from Harley and getting dragged back to Arkham had been somewhat annoying. He would have preferred being thrown in jail where wasn’t surrounded by the ghosts of Harleen. It didn’t help that whatever the doctors kept injecting him with made his head feel fuzzy and his eyes feel like they were buzzing.

            He knew it all would just make it all the funnier when his girl broke him out. Breaking each other out was one of his favorite pass times. He didn’t _like_ being separated from her and tried to avoid it, but it always added an element of excitement. Just another way to spice up date night. Well, that wasn't quiet true. He loved breaking her out but he hated being confined, being out of control. It made him shake with adrenaline and the need to hurt something. Afterwards Harley would always have to remind him how funny it was that the little people of Gotham thought they could restrain him and convince himself that nothing could tear them apart. Normally they would barely make it back to their getaway car before she’d be all over him or he’d ripping the clothes from her body.

            Instead, this time, she barely talked to him when she burst open his cell. She'd stalked straight to their apartment from their basement. He was left standing by the car staring at her retreating form unsure just what the fuck had happened.  J marched off to a playroom to teach a backstabbing henchmen who had tipped off the police who was in control, refusing to chase after Harley.

            He only went up to their apartment after he’d reminded himself just who had the power. She’d woken up briefly when he stumbled back to their room but had quickly fallen back asleep. J wasn’t sure if he wanted to close his eyes, too afraid that when he opened them that he’d still be trapped or that Harley would turn out to be some elaborate hallucination. At some point sleep must have gripped him

            He could never tell if his dreams were memories or not. His past had always been multiple choice and he’d told so many versions of it over the years and heard so many theories he wasn’t sure what was real anymore. Sometimes in his dreams he saw camouflage and guns and a foreign land. Sometimes he was very small and people much bigger than him did terrible things. Sometimes there was a man with a knife telling him to smile more. Sometimes he saw a pretty young woman and a small apartment. Sometimes he saw that young woman with a smile carved into her face. Sometimes he saw stage lights and notecards full of jokes. Sometimes he saw a gang of mismatched young men with guns and someone called the Red Hood. Sometimes he saw the broken body of a very pregnant woman in the wreckage of a car. Sometimes he was the ward of some rich man who was way too into martial arts. Sometimes he saw nothing. When he woke up the details always faded into near obscurity.

            He could never remember names or places or years. He never even knew if any of them were real. He could sometimes remember shadows of feelings from those dreams. He didn’t mind the ones that made him jolt awake wanting to scream and crawl out of his skin. He hated the ones he woke up from feeling peaceful or happy. He could never remember what happened in those dreams.

            Tonight, he had woken up from a rapidly fading set of images where his hair wasn’t green, and his skin wasn’t bleached. There was someone else… he couldn’t remember their face or anything about them and was quickly forgetting what they were doing. For a moment there were no voices or monsters in his head. But as the seconds ticked by, they returned and were getting louder and louder until he couldn’t breathe.

 

* * *

 

            Harley rolled over and sleepily reached for her Puddin’ only to be shocked to consciousness by a cold bed. He often wondered off to his lab or his office when he was supposed to be sleeping to work on new toys. For a man so good at so many things, he was awful at sleeping and needed frequent reminders that even he needed rest. While she wasn’t thrilled with him, she loved her idiot clown who (albeit unknowingly) ruined her plans. She slipped on her oversized clown shoe slippers (J had fallen off his chair laughing when she wore them for the first time) when she noticed the back of his head sticking out over the top of his purple velvet arm chair.

            If Harley squinted, she could imagine he was a normal man in a normal house, staring out at the city sky line and petting a cat or small dog in his lap. Tip toeing over, she could see he was staring blankly at the blackout curtains he hung to hide the daylight and was stroking his thigh with the point of a knife. Harley couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt, she knew he usually had bad nights after he’d been confined against his will and she’d been unnecessarily bitchy to him. It was a stupid revenge plan, she thought, he didn't even know why she was mad at him. She shifted on her feet unsure how to proceed. Puddin’ accidentally hit her once when she woke him up from a nightmare (which he had felt very bad about).

            “Harley, be careful. We’ve seen him dissociative before at Arkahm and it wasn’t pretty. He wasn’t even armed, and he took down a couple of guards.” Harleen whispered urgently.

            “Hun, I’m not brain doctor or nothin’ but he’s got a knife and you’ve got novelty slippers. So, maybe, don’t?” The Lady drawled sounding bored. Harley didn’t need to be told to be careful, he was _her_ clown (even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud yet). She wasn’t sure how long she stood there watching a puddle of blood grow, waiting for an idea of how to bring him back and put down the knife. Or at least do less damage with it.

            “Puddin’, if you’re gonna add to your decorations at least make it funny.” She finally said, trying to sound confident. She walked over to his line of sight, watching him for any signs he would attack. His hand slowed, but there was no other sign her heard her.

            “Puddin’?” she repeated, starting to genuinely worry. Five minutes of painful silence ticked by before he finally dropped the knife to the floor.

            “I can’t think of anything funny right now, cupcake,” he responded. Harley walked over to him, kicking the knife away under their bed, grabbing their first aid kid and kneeling between his legs.

            “A Joker with no jokes? Batman will be so lonely.” She quipped back, trying to hide how concerned she was. She started cleaning the wound, giving his knee a kiss before getting started. She knew better than to ask if he wanted pain killers by now, he never did, but she hoped her kiss made him feel a little better. The silence dragged on, but Harley knew that if she waited long enough, he would eventually say what he needed to say. By the time he opened his mouth again she was finishing covering the neat row of stiches with gauze.

            “That wasn’t my first vacation to Arkham and you weren’t the first to put the juice on me.” He whispered, his eyes unfocused and far way.

            “Puddin’?” She asked again, unsure where he was going. She quickly tucked the end of the bandage. She needed to focus on him.

            “I’ve been a blackhole of rage and confusion since I was reborn. You made it worse.” He growled, his eyes starting to lose their glazed quality.

            “Puddin’ I don’t remember everything, but Harleen didn’t order the ECT. It was way above her pay grade,” she whispered. Reaching to push his hair from his eyes, noting how clammy his skin was, before continuing, “I don’t know why anyone would wanna hurt your brain it’s so beautiful, no one else could create the things you made, no one else could see the future that you’ve-” Joker suddenly cut her off, moving his hands with shocking speed to her wrist. He didn’t squeeze hard enough to hurt her, just hard enough to let her know he could.

            “I lost the few memories I had. It was all a trick. The joke on the Joker.” He giggled in a terrifying, hollow voice “I can see them when I sleep, Dr. Quinzell, but when I open my eyes they disappear.” His eyes were narrow and dangerous, alarmingly alert after drifting so far away.

            “Dr. Quinzell is dead.” Harley said, anger flickering in her eyes. “We killed her. I’m Harley, I’m yours. Stop talking to me like I’m her.” Harley rarely got truly mad at him, the only thing that _really_ pissed her off was when he acted like she was still Harleen. Like she hadn’t been completely set free and transformed and their time together hadn’t happened.

            “Don’t get testy with me doctor,” he whispered, his hands tightening for a moment. “Don’t forget who I am.”

            “Don’t forget who _I_ am, Joker.” She spat back, not seeming to notice how his name made him flinch. She knew he either had a nightmare or dreamed about a memory he wished he still had. He always struggled after those, especially after he’d been captured, but normally he took it out on Gotham. Not her.

            “How could you take the memories away of someone you love, Dr. Quinzell? I’ve killed everyone else who put the juice on me, everyone who took and tainted my memories. Why shouldn’t I kill you too?” He whispered in a distant voice.

            Harley wanted to hit something- not him, but if one of his goons walked in the door, she would throw the closest knife at him. Intellectually, she knew he was just lashing out because of his dream and capture and he would feel bad about it about it once he had a little space. But that, emotionally, didn’t matter much.

            “Then do it!” She responded, “after all the good doctor was just a distraction. I’m still Dr. Quinzell? I’m just an expendable goon with pussy who looks good in a dress? The Joker doesn’t need me. Ya don’t want me? End me.” she hissed, “do it, do it, do it, do it!” Reminding herself of a blurry conversation that happened between Harleen and Mr. J months ago on a highway somewhere in Gotham.

            She could feel his muscles freeze. Feel the tension in his body. Almost taste the confusion filling his mind. J stood quickly to storm out of the room, pushing Harley off his lap. Normally, she would have let him go set a couple fires then come home and have a conversation like a big boy. But tonight, she was losing her patience (even if his current state of mind was kinda her fault).

            Harley jumped to her feet, hooking her leg behind his ankles, shoving him backwards and pinning him to the seat under her body while trying not to bust his stitches open. In the darkness she could see a mixture of vacancy and something she would have called panic in anyone else’s eyes.

            “I am here because we _both_ want me to be here. I made my choice to be the serial killing side kick to a mass murdering clown when I fell in love with you.” Harley said, resting her forehead against his, “I don’t know why your memories are gone. But I love you. I am not leaving, we both know you aren’t going to get rid of me, and no one is going to take me away,” she whispered, hoping to get through to him as his mind seemed to wander further and further away. “You couldn’t forget me if you tried,” she added while brushing her thumb over his newest tattoo on his neck, and gripped his waist tighter between her knees, ready for him to push her off.

            She expected him to make excuses or explain that he was an idea and ideas can’t be loved like he normally would. Instead, he went completely limp. After several minutes she noticed his arms begin to slide up her torso as if he if he went slowly enough, she wouldn’t notice. She wasn’t sure if she should be bracing to fight a dissociative Joker (she hadn’t tried that before and was pretty sure she didn’t want to) or leaning in to hug her Puddin’. He ended up making that choice for her, crushing her to his chest. Under her ear she could hear how uneven his breathing was.

            It was hard to tell how much time passed. With the blackout curtains it always looked like the middle of the night. Neither of them seemed to care. Harley was just happy that he wanted to hold on to her, he didn’t normally like to be touched after he dreamt about his old life. He couldn’t handle comfort those nights. She always like being touched by him, when he was close by Harleen and the other Lady shut up and all their crazy pieces fit together. Together they made some kind of beautiful, fucked up puzzle. She wondered absently what picture the puzzle would create. She hoped whatever it was, it was funny.

  

* * *

 

 

            Where Harley’s mind had gone pleasantly blank, J’s was racing. That wasn’t new, if anything the only time his mind _wasn’t_ racing was when he was with Harley (which he tried not to think about). But now the infuriating woman wouldn’t let him _not_ think. She made him… feel things. It was an unfamiliar sensation he sometimes could recall in confusing happier dreams about whatever he was before The Joker was born.

            Harley kept breaking the rules. All of them. Joker’s were a wild card. No suit. Not even a place in the number line or a set place in the court. It’s value and role were all dependent on the game being played.

            Instead Harley made him want to play a game that seemed to be a gruesome parody of a normal life. Harley made the world interesting and kept blackhole inside him from rearing its ugly head. But she was his weakness. Not only could she be used by others to gain power over him, but she herself had power over him that made him feel sick. He could never decide which was worse, boredom or weakness. Be bored and strong or weak and something like _happy_. He could avoid one but not the other. No matter the answer to the puzzling question of strength vs. happiness, hearing her call herself his sidekick felt… wrong. He barely heard her words when she said them but now, they rattled in his mind.

            “I can’t …” he paused, not wanting to speak but knowing he needed to (and not knowing why he knew that). “There has never been anyone like you, my Harlequin. I… I can’t replace you.” He said, carefully schooling his features to be blank, staring at the wall hoping Harley wouldn’t look at him. Knowing if she did, he couldn’t keep his face neutral.

            “J…” Harley sighed, looking at him with something a little voice in the back of his head had been calling ‘love’ since the night Harleen was reborn as Harley.

            “You weren’t supposed to live for me. Surrender becomes desire and desire becomes power- but you were never supposed to have that power” J lowered his face to her shoulder, unable to look at her while he spoke. “No one has power over the Joker. I sure as fuck was never supposed to surrender anything. You were never even supposed to be my side kick, and now… you are something else entirely.”  He trailed off, unsure of how much to tell her.

            He fell into a strange silence again, wondering how to articulate what he meant. His quest for power would never stop, Gotham would be the Joker’s. Even Harley couldn’t change that. But she wouldn’t want it to, he smiled ruefully, Harley Quinn would be creating and escalating mayhem alongside him- making the chaos in Gotham and inside his mind much more interesting. He wasn’t sure what to call his dependency on her or the ways she made him feel. But he knew that she as always going to be the answer to his ongoing debate between boredom and power. He’d known it since he was dressed in Arkham’s finest and had been fighting it ever since. But this was one fight he knew he was going to lose, and for once, loosing felt like some kind of twisted victory in and of itself.

            “We are going to rule Gotham,” he finally said, lifting his head from her shoulder. “And you, my Harlequin, will be its queen”

 

* * *

 

 

            Harley was shocked to silence. He never volunteered his feelings. She knew he cared. Knew he liked her. She wasn’t like the rest of his goons. Behind closed doors she knew where she stood, but she didn’t think of herself, at least in front of his business associates, as his partner. She didn’t even know where to start that he’d imagined them ruling Gotham. Together.

            Harley placed her hands on either side of his face, staring into his bright blue eyes trying to reassure herself she wasn’t misreading him. After a long moment a choked sob escaped her throat as she pressed her forehead against his.

            “I love you,” Harley sniffed back tears, somewhat overwhelmed. The two sat in silence for a long while, J neither rejecting or accepting her sentiment, just holding her closer.

            “I’m not used to having someone with me on nights like this. Or in general” He finally said, resting his cheek on her head in his typical non-apology-apology

            “You’ll get better at it.” Harley smiled, “you’re stuck with me and I’ll keep calling you on it.”

            “I can’t wait,” J chuckled sarcastically.

            “Shut up, you love it. I’m sorry I was a bitch tonight.” Harley muttered against his neck. “I know nights like this are hard, I was just mad that you and Batsy foiled my plans.”

            “Plans?” J asked blearily, overwhelmed from the turns of the night.

            “You give me so many presents and I wanted to get you something too.” Harley sighed, “I mean it benefits me too, so I don’t know how much of a present it is. Although, the same could be said of all the lingerie you buy me” she giggled. J pinched her lightly in response.

            “I am a virtuous and charitable man with no ulterior motives.”

            “Yeah, and I’m a blessed virgin, bride of Christ. Return me to my nunnery you scoundrel.” Harley laughed dryly, “but I snuck out and got you a present a week ago and I was going to surprise you with it the night you got captured…” She trailed off. “If I get up, do you promise not to run around and bust your stitches?” J nodded and released her waist.

            Harley bounced up and skipped over to their closet where she had hidden a box. She and Slappy often made arts and crafts together and they had some left-over fabric paint.

            “Stay!” Harley yelled over her shoulder, closing the closet door behind her. She slid on a vibrant pink lace pair of panties that were cinched with blue bows on the hips. The lingerie itself wasn’t anything special, just something that matched her hair too well not to buy. The important part was the nearly translucent white tank top that was tight enough to be a second skin that the silhouette of a woman with pig tails striking a sexy pose, flexing her bicep under a whale leaping out of a blue condom. Underneath the woman, Harley had written “FREE WILLY” in blue bubble letters.

            Pausing to look in the mirror, Harley put her hair in pig tails and paused to tease her nipples, so they stood out even more under the thin fabric of her tank top. With a nod, she dashed back over to the box she’d hidden her shirt in to grab an envelope with her discharge papers in it. She’d circled the name of the implant, the date they could ‘free willy’ and had doodled whale-condom hybrids and hearts over the rest of the page. Before leaving the closet, she pulled on one of his dress shirts so he wouldn’t see what hers said until he’d read the news.

 

* * *

 

            J was reeling somewhat. Their playful banter made him feel more normal, but his head was still swimming. His discomfort from the drugs, confinement, and his dream were fading and he was starting to feel like himself again. Still, he was off balance. Every time he told Harley more of how he felt or what he wanted he was losing power. But for some reason the idea of her gaining power didn’t make him feel sick the way it used to.

            Putting a smile on, J waited for his girl to return. Her behavior earlier in the night had been somewhat forgotten by his dream- but it had confused him. And made him feel something like hurt.

            Suddenly, the closet door burst open and a very happy Harley bounced over to him. She held out an envelope and perched carefully on his lap with a big grin. Flicking open the paper, J began to read. At first not believing his eyes, J read it again.

            He’d always wondered what it would feel like to be inside his little Jester without the numbing barrier of the condom. He could only imagine how amazing she’d feel around his cock by the bliss of her around his fingers and tongue. The physical sensation was undoubtedly an attractive prospect but something about the idea of filling her with his seed, claiming her, with leaving himself inside her made his cock twitch. He’d mentioned how much he loved seeing her covered in his come and how amazing she felt around his fingers, but he never expected her to go and commit small medical fraud to bring his fantasy to life.

            When he looked up to confirm it meant what he thought it did (which, to be fair, he’d never thought about birth control beyond condoms so checking with her seemed a reasonable thing to do) she was wearing something different. The shirt itself made him laugh but the sight of her breasts almost bursting through the fabric made his mouth water.

            “Do you like it?” Harley asked huskily. J didn’t bother to answer, he just pulled her to him and kissed her thoroughly and deeply. His hands went to her hips and pulled her hard against himself.

            “What do you think?” He growled against her lips, rocking his hips against hers so she could feel just how hard he was.

            “Mhm… not sure. Maybe ya should show me?” She giggled coyly. J couldn’t help but laugh even as he swatted her ass for her impertinence.

            “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll show you.” J said, standing from the chair while holding Harley whose legs had wrapped around his waist. He laid her down and couldn’t help but stare. Her long pale legs were raised at the knee and parted. The shirt was tight enough it was almost like she wasn’t wearing one at all, he could see her nipples ready to burst through the fabric. Her ponytails rested on her shoulders, making her look innocent and so, so very fuckable at the same time. Those bright blue eyes and small, coy smile were too much for him.

            J almost ripped his briefs while pulling them off, desperate to feel his girl. Harley moaned, running her hands over her torso and playing with her nipples while rolling her hips. J couldn’t breathe she was too beautiful and was staring at him like she was about to devour him. His cock pulsed against his stomach, catching Harley’s eye.

           

* * *

 

            Harley bit her lip in anticipation as J crawled over her body with a dangerous look in his eyes that made her pussy clench. Harley gave her nipples one last pinch before sliding them on to her Puddin’s chest and scraping her nails lightly down his back. He groaned quietly and pressed his naked body fully against her still clothed one. His hip reflexively pulsed against her, making Harley gasp.

            He leaned down with his unnatural speed to capture her lips. Harley’s hands buried themselves in his unruly hair, moaning against his lips. She returned his passionate kiss and escalated the ferocity. She sucked on his tongue and bit at his lips, needing more of her Puddin’ and needing it now.

            J groaned against her lips, the combination of their kiss and the rocking of her pussy against his hard length was overwhelming both of them. J slid his hands between their bodies, stopping to pinch her nipple, and coming to rest at the apex of her thighs and tearing her panties open at the little bows on her hips.

            “You wanted to me to show you how much I liked present?” J growled at her, “I’ll show you.” He thrust two fingers inside of her, slowly curling them against her sweet spot.

            “Puddin’” Harley gasped, her back arching in pleasure. She whimpered as her hips began to rock to counter his fingers thrust. “Show me with your cock.” J chuckled in response, his fingers slipping deeper.

            “Oh, don’t worry I will. But first I need to show my appreciation. Don’t I, cupcake?” He groaned with no small amount of teasing in his voice. “And Daddy thinks the best way to show you is fuck you with his tongue first. Don’t you think so?”

            “Hell yes,” Harley whimpered as her hips’ dance grew more agitated. J’s smirk turned into a desperately hungry look as his pressed another deep kiss to her lips. Just as Harley was losing herself to J’s kisses and fingers, they were both gone. She opened her eyes only to see him sucking her juices off his fingers, making both of them groan desperately. His lips returned to her neck, biting and sucking at her delicate skin.

            J pushed her legs further apart, brazenly staring at her pink flower. Harley had never understood why he liked looking at her pussy so much, but there was never anything wrong with having his heated gaze directed at her. For any reason. It always made her breathing speed up and her womb clench, usually ruining her panties. This time, however, J got to benefit from the full visual of her sporadically tensing pussy dripping cream for him.

            With a groan, J leaned down to rest his head on her hairless mound. His tongue snaked out, tracing a path from her still clenching and unclenching entrance to her clit. Harley jerked at his first touch, prompting J to lock his arms around her thighs and spread her wide. This time, when he sucked on her clit all Harley could do was throw her head back and gasp. His rough licks and gentle suckling made thinking impossible. All she could do was feel (and moan… and gasp… and say his name).

            “Do you have any idea how amazing you taste? How much I fucking love doing this?” J growled against her pussy, the vibrations tickling her clit. “You’re right though, when you aren’t here and I’m all alone I don’t just fantasize about eating you out. I stroke my cock and think about how it would feel to sink into your pussy with nothing between us.” Harley’s mind melted at the idea of J jerking off. She officially needed to see that.

            “Once I make you come a few times, I’m going to do just that. And you want me to, don’t you? You dirty little girl.” His dirty words made Harley’s hips jump and a series of incomprehensible moans leave her lips.

            “Please Puddin’!” She whimpered, increasingly desperate for his touch. “Oh god!” She screamed as he redoubled his efforts against her folds. His tongue snaked inside of her, rubbing against her walls as deep as possible. She couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore, it was too much. Her pussy was clenching rhythmically around his tongue and putting out a steady drip for him. The sensations were too intense, too much.

            Her groans were cut off as J’s lips latched on to her clit, one hand reached up to pinch her nipples, and the other fingered her relentlessly. The combination of sensations was making her thighs shake and her belly clench in anticipation.

            “Fuck, yes! Yes! Puddin’, I’m-” Harley’s hands slapped down onto the sheet beneath her and squeezed them with a death grip. Her words devolved into high pitch feminine screams as she began to orgasm. J didn’t relent as her orgasm faded, his fingers continuing to curl within her and running his tongue over her clit that he’d sucked into his mouth. Seconds later, she was coming again, her back arching up as she felt her pussy gush against his face.

            She could dimly hear J moaning against her over the sound of her heart racing. She hadn’t had two orgasms so close to each other before and she wasn’t sure she was going to survive the experience. Harley was convulsing in pleasure, her mouth gaped open.        

            J’s fingers slid out of her hypersensitive passage and he gave her clit a final light kiss before crawling up her body. Harley looked down at his cock that was resting against her belly, shocked with the amount of precum it was glistening with. She crushed her lips against his wet ones with a desperate moan. 

            “J,” She murmured, hooking her legs over his hips.

            “Yesss,” he hissed, unable to stop his hips from thrusting against her wetness.

            “Fuck me.” She whispered. J seemed to lose the last of his restraint as aligned himself with her entrance and slowly slipped inside her. Inch by torturous and blissful inch.

            J froze between her thighs, panting. His fingers gripped her hips with bruising force and his face warped in a rictus of pleasure.

            “Don’t. Move.” He gasped from between clenched teeth. Harley threw her head back trying to stay still. It was hard to do when he filled her so completely and her clit, still sensitive from her recent orgasms, was pressed against him. After a long moment, J released a shaking breath and opened his eyes. His hips slowly drew back, until just the tip of his erection was left in her, and forward again until his ball pressed against her ass.

            “Puddin’,” Harley gasped, squirming, “need you to move faster.” J groaned in response. He shook his head even as his hips picked up pace. Harley used the leverage of her legs that had twined around his waist to pull his hips faster and harder.

            “Can’t,” he groaned. “You feel- uhn… you feel too fucking amazing like this.” His hips rocked faster, seemingly of their own volition. “You’re too fucking tight and hot and wet and-” his voice cut off in in to a deep groan. “It’s too much.” His hands pulled Harley’s legs from around his waist and over his shoulders.

            Harley slapped the bed in frustration. Her new position made it damn near impossible for her to counter his thrusts or force him to move faster. He felt amazing inside of her, but it was just stoking the embers rather than feeding the fire. Smiling wickedly up at him, Harley clenched around him rhythmically. With each thrust forward she tightened around him as if she was trying to trap him inside her.

            “Fuck!” J shouted. “Don’t do that- I won’t last.” His hips pulsed faster, building to a moderate pace as his cock twitched dangerously. Harley just smirked and clenched harder in response. It wasn’t just for his benefit, each time she tightened her muscles around him it made a jolt of pleasure shoot up her spine. “Harley,” he moaned, his fingers digging into her thighs with bruising force, “I won’t- I can’t.” His voice dropped off into a broken groan.

            She wasn’t sure what it was. Something about seeing him so out of control. Something about watching him loose himself in pleasure. Something about the way his face contorted in a parody of a grimace. Something about the low light glinting off of his bared golden grill. Something about the powerful flexion of his biceps and abs. Something about the sweat dripping down his back. She knew that if she kept it up, she wouldn’t get to come; but something about all of him made that seem less important than watching her clown deconstruct between her thighs.

            Harley grabbed a fistful of J’s hair and pulled him close to bite at his neck while raking her nails painfully down his back. She placed her lips next to his ear and began to whisper.

            “Feel how wet I am for you, Puddin’.  Feel how much I want you.” Harley squeezed her muscles around him deliberately, relishing in his broken moan and the hastened pace of his hips. “Stop holding on. Fuck me. Come for me.”

            J’s head dropped against her knee and one of his hands moved to the mattress next to her shoulder to brace himself. He pounded into her, making Harley words fade into a moan. She could see J still fighting himself, still trying to hold on. But more than anything else at that moment she wanted to see him loose control. She wracked her brain, trying to think of just the right words to make him loose himself. Harley gasped against his neck where she had resumed tracing the bruises she’d left with her tongue when she thought of just the thing.

            “Please, Daddy,” she moaned. J froze for a moment, his cock twitching inside of her, before he finally broke.

            “Harley!” J all but shouted. His hips flew against her and he bit hard at her thigh to muffle his vocalizations. He slammed against her several more times before his hips stuttered against her. Harley could feel his cock swell even more just before it pulsed hard inside of her. She could feel the hot fluid of his release jetting against her walls. It was an odd sensation, but it was one that made her drop her head back to the pillow, moaning. J’s cock continued to twitch inside of her as his hips pumped arrhythmically against her. Harley shuddered, her pussy feeling close to overflowing with a combination of her and J’s fluids. She still wanted desperately to come but just looking at the expression on J’s face was worth it.

 

* * *

 

            J was reeling. Being inside Harley was a fucking spiritual experience. It always felt amazing but having her wrapped directly around him and her wetness all over his cock was some kind of mind-altering drug. Coming inside her, J groaned, was something else. He supposed he should feel embarrassed for not making her come, and some part of him did, but she had begged him to come for her…

            As the mind-blowing pleasure began to fade, J pushed himself back up to his knees. He locked his eyes on her pussy, watching himself pull out of her and a trickle of his seamen flow out of her. Groaning, he rested his head on her thigh to see better. Harley was smiling down at him indulgently as she played with his hair. He was still mostly hard and still very much desperate for her body.

            And this time, he wouldn’t lose his shit like and would worship his girl’s body. Once he was done looking at her, of course… Although, he wasn’t sure he’d ever want to look away. He smirked to himself, having a wicked idea.

            “Puddin’?” Harley asked, her voice still husky with arousal.

            “Just a second cupcake.” J responded over his shoulder. He flicked on their dim overhead lights and spun the leather arm chair he had been sitting in so that it faced their closet door. He then opened it up so that the floor length mirror was a foot from the chair. Harley picked herself up on to her elbows to watch her clown.

            “What are you doing?” She asked confusedly. “Careful of your stitches!” She added, wincing as he braced the chair on his hip.

            “Shush, I’m fine. Just getting a few things together.” He responded evasively.

            “For what?”

            “To fuck you again.” He growled, leaning back over her body and kissing her softly. The kiss turned into a deep sensual meeting of the lips that had both moaning against each other. J pulled away as soon as Harley’s breath started to come in staccato bursts. Smirking, he trailed his lips down her throat and sucked a nipple into his mouth. Not wanting the other breast to feel excluded, he cupped it firmly in his hand. Her head thrashed from side to side as his teeth nipped gently the nipple he had latched onto.

            “J, please.” She gasped, rubbing her legs together for friction. J smirked, loving her obvious arousal. He stood, pulling her to sitting on the edge of the bed with one leg on either side of him. Stooping, he opened his mouth wider to suck harder on her sensitive skin. Her hips bucked against him. Her hot wetness pressed against his hypersensitive cock, the sensation made all the more intense by knowing she was wet with her arousal and his seed.

            “Not yet.” He said, pulling away from he with a groan. He lifted her up and walked the two back to the chair he had moved in front of the mirror. Harley gave him a confused look as he placed her on the ground in front of him and prompted her to turn away from him. “Like this,” he moaned as he pulled her onto his lap and spread each of her legs over an arm rest.

            “Fuck,” she choked out, staring at their reflection.

            “Look at us,” J moaned. His eyes trailed over the contrast of his green hair on her white skin. His tattooed fingers clutching her soft hips. He was captivated by her heavy breasts, soft stomach, and pink sex that was so invitingly open to his gaze. Her glistening pussy called to him like a siren. Her entrance was clenching intermittently with arousal and there was still a trickle of her cream and his seed flowing from her, trailing down her ass, and onto his thighs. That in and of itself was enough to make his cock throb to full mast.

            He couldn’t stop himself. His hands trailed down her torso, plucking and fondling her breasts before coming to rest on her inner thighs. Torturing both of them, J slowly stretched out a single tattooed finger and caressed her clitoris in small circles. Harley’s hips jumped and her already erratic breathing quickened.

            “Yes, Puddin’. More,” she begged, rocking her hips against him. J gasped, unable to suppress a lone thrust of his hips against her firm ass. He moved his hand from her clitoris to her folds, spreading her open to his gaze. A broken groan escaped his lips as he gazed at her flesh.

            “So fucking beautiful.” He muttered against the flesh of her neck before biting down. Harley only smiled in response and began to roll her hips so her ass rubbed his cock teasingly. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” He growled, rocking his hips along with the tempo she set.

            J shook his head to clear his mind. His girl had treated him and now he needed to return the favor (and stroke his ego in the process). He traced the lines of her labia with his fingertips lightly before allowing two fingers to slide inside his jester. Flipping his palm upwards and crooking his fingers in a come-hither position, he began to slowly push them in and out.

            “Puddin’!” Harley cried. Her back arched sharply, pushing her breasts forward and her head back against his shoulder. Her hips began to rock faster. He heard her nonverbal command to move faster was loud and clear. But J laughed evilly and removed his fingers from her heat to slip them into his mouth, groaning at the taste of their combined fluids.  Harley looked furious for a moment before schooling her features and snatching his hand, only to put his fingers in her mouth. She sucked on them relentlessly as if it were his cock.

            “Please!” She begged. J groaned, the sensation of her lips and tongue on his fingers already was making his cock throb. Her words were making him leave a trail of precum across her lower back. He quickly wrapped his arms under her thighs to haul her higher up against his torso and free his cock from behind her back.

            “What does Daddy’s little monster need?” He asked teasingly, allowing his cock to tap against her entrance. Harley didn’t dignify his question with a response, she just rolled her hips against his bobbing cock and allowed her cream to baptize him. “Use your big girl words.” He chided, trying and failing to keep a level voice.

            “Fuck me!” She whimpered. J growled down at her and shifted his grip to free one hand so he could align his tip with her entrance. Once there was no danger of him popping free, he reasserted his grip so she couldn’t sink any further down his shaft.

            “You’ll have to do better than that.” He chided. He saw the blissful relief on Harley’s face turn to slight anger when he refused to let her take his full length. J tried to level out his breathing and hide just how effected he was by the sensation of her juices dripping down his shaft, her flesh twitching around his sensitive tip, or the visual of her beautiful naked body stretched over his.

            “I need you inside of me.” Harley whispered seductively, rolling her hip as best she could in her restrained position. “Don’t you feel how wet I am for you?” She rotated her head, straining her neck to nip at his ear and lick the shell before whispering “Pretty, pretty, please Daddy.”

            “Oh fuck!” J groaned, losing his restraint. He moved his hands from her shaking thighs and placed her feet so that they pressed against the seat cushion and she was in a deep squat. The new position allowed her to rock against him and control the depth without interrupting either of their views. He thrust the rest of his cock inside of her, and threw his head back, biting his lip as he fought to keep his eyes open.

            There was too much to see to waste it on closed eyes. Her powerful thighs were flexed on either side of him, pushing her body up and down over him. Her soft breasts and stomach bounced with each thrust. Her face was in absolute ecstasy and her eyes were just as drawn to and hypnotized by the place their bodies came together as he was. His erection, just a shade darker than the rest of his porcelain skin, would disappear inside of her and stretch her open wide until his balls were nestled under her opening and got covered in a new wave of cream. Then she would rock up until just his tip remained inside of her.

            “J,” Harley moaned, rocking her hips forward so he continuously hit her g-spot. The two began to move faster against each other, sacrificing depth for more forceful shallow thrusts.

            “You look amazing,” J groaned. The sight was almost enough to make him come, let alone the overwhelming sensation of being inside her with no barrier between them. Thank god he’d just come half an hour ago or this round would have been equally short. But better to be safe than sorry he trailed his hand from her thighs to her apex to circle her bundle of nerves. Her clitoris was standing proud out from under its hood begging for his attentions.

            Harley wailed at the contact and began to thrust her hip harder and faster against J. He was mesmerized by her bouncing breasts and the spasms of her pussy that made his cock lurch inside of her. Fuck she felt amazing. Her juices were now running freely down both of their thighs and onto the seat. His balls were completely saturated from her warning spurts, the sight of which made him bite his lip until it bled to keep from coming too soon.

            “Yes! Yes! Puddin’” Harley shouted, pressing her lips against the side of his neck. “Right there, right there- you’re gonna make me come!” J gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts between her thighs. He snapped his hips at the top of each thrust, accenting the continues drag of his cock against her g-spot with a direct press. His finger moved faster over her hard clitoris which was delightfully slippery under his ministrations.

            Harley removed her hands from J’s knees, locking one in his hair and the other on her breast. She kneaded her flesh relentlessly and pinched at her nipple while crying out J’s name.

            “Don’t look away,” J growled, fighting to hold on for Harley. She felt so good. So wet. So tight. The room smelled deliciously of fucking and the sounds of their wet flesh slapping together filled their suit.

            “Say my name Puddin’,” Harley gasped, as J slid his tongue across her neck. “Tell me who you’re coming for, Puddin’! Tell me who you want!” Her voice devolved into whimpers as her hips began to lose rhythm against his.  

            “Only you Harley, fuck!” J shouted, trying to resist the clamping heat of her pussy that was consuming him. “Come for me, cupcake! Come for Daddy!” He shouted, pressing faster at her clitoris while trying to ignore his cock lurching inside of her.

            “J!” Harley screamed as her fingers curled painfully in his hair.

            “Yes, Harley! Fucking hurt me!” He shouted back as Harley’s body began to convulse over his form. Her face warped into a shocked expression of bliss as her back arched sharply. She screamed something that might have been his name. Her pussy sprayed around his flesh hard enough to hit the mirror.

            At the sight of his girl bucking atop him combined with her squirting all over his cock, J lost it. His cock twitched violently inside of his girl’s body and he bit down hard on her bruised neck and cried out his release. His cock erupted inside of her, flooding her already overflowing pussy.f

            J clung to Harley who limply sprawled across him but had the presence of mind to lock one leg over the arm of the chair on the side of his injured thigh to prevent her from placing her weight directly on his stitches. Her fingers carded through his hair as she mewled happily. The two still twitched and bucked against each other occasionally but were pleasurably exhausted. Their lips met in a lazy trembling kiss that made them both smile. J rested his head atop hers and the two’s eyes were drawn back to her pussy where they were still joined.

            Harley smiled and rose up on shaking thighs and slowly removed J’s rapidly softening flesh from her heat. J spread her thighs further and gently parted her sensitive lips. The two watched, transfixed, by the sight of his seed and her arousal dripping out of her entrance and on to his cock and the seat below them. After a long silence, Harley laughed.

            “What?” J asked lazily, nipping at her neck.

            “I think we ruined our chair.” Harley smiled making J laughed.

            “Nonsense, we improved it.” He scoffed. Harley giggled and rotated in his grasp, so she was straddling him, without putting weight on his stitches. Her arms wrapped around his neck and his rested on her waist.

            “I’m gonna fall asleep, Pudin’. Love you.” Harley mumbled into his neck. J smiled and kissed the crown of her head and pulled her closer. He wouldn’t be able to fall asleep after the dreams he had, and even if he could he didn’t want to risk another and blowing up at Harley again. But he would happily watch her sleep.

            Once he was sure she was out and snoring adorably against his neck he pressed another kiss to her hair and whispered, “Love you, too.” Maybe someday he would tell the sleeping monster in his arms. Not yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this got me thinking of an outtake/oneshot I might write after this story is complete where Harley breaks J out of Arkham dressed in a Harleen costume. Let me know if you'd be interested in something like that in the comments below.


	7. Shacking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It never hurt to let a nice cut of meat marinate. Particularly since this slice thinks he’s special enough to request to meet in his office instead of VIP like everyone else." He put down the lipstick and checked his reflection one last time before walking back to the bedroom and admiring his Jester. “Let us go my Queen,” he said sarcastically. She stuck her tongue out at him and took his arm, pulling him down the elevator to the hidden door to his office to go meet with their newest toy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers, well… I’m back! This chapter probably tries to set up some of the behavior we see in Suicide Squad the most directly of any chapter. I wanted to start playing around with the idea of why Harley is so touchy about kids and explore some of the darker dynamics of her and J’s relationship.  
> Songs: Baby Outlaw- Elle King; River- Bishop Briggs; Sexxx Dreams- Lady Gaga; Him & I- G-Eazy and Halsey

      Some nights after a good day playing pranks on their city they would fall into bed covered in magic markers and whip cream- they were silly, not manic but certainly not quite lucid either.

      Some nights she got hurt- he would stich up her booboo and graphically explain what the punishment would be if Daddy’s Little Monster tried to pull a stupid stunt like that again. Those punishments never sounded fun or funny. But the threat of his growled words always undercut by bubble gum bubble bath he’d place her in. She’d wait till he was done talking before giving him a bubble beard and begging him to join her.

      Some nights he got hurt and Harley would worry over him and incentivize him to stay in bed until he couldn't stand it anymore. When he woke up, she would give him a good dressing down for being an idiot. Then she’d fall into bed with him.

      Some nights she impressed him, and he would drive home (going fast, even for him) and spend hours worshiping her body until her throat was raw from screaming his name. It only happened once in a while, but he couldn’t help himself after she killed one of his backstabbing clients, or when she killed the bat-brat, or that time she TPed a rival gangs lounge with their own guts.

      Sometimes, when he did something especially impressive, she did the same to him.

      Time passed and Gotham got to know its Queen.

  

* * *

 

      “Focus, damn it.” Harley cursed at herself while banging her head against the ledger that she was supposed to be reading but had been doodling little hearts with J+H inside them for the last ten minutes. There wasn’t much she wished she still had from Harleen but the ability to focus for more than five minutes would have been nice. Or at least long enough to make sure no one was fucking her over on the payroll. There were only a few pages left and she could go back to the hide out. Lord knew she had enough to do there, when she’d left the henchmen were still packing up the armory and had what seemed like an infinite number of boxes to load into the vans.

       “Hey, Missy Q. You got a minute?” A voice called from the door of Harley’s office. Harley looked up from where she’d face planted on the desk.

      “Jemma, what ya doing in so early?” Harley giggled with narrowed eyes, suspicious of her early appearance. 

      “I missed you so much I just had to swing by.” Jemma rolled her eyes and flopped into one of the chairs in front of Harley’s desk looking every inch the teenager she was.

      “Well whatever it is, make it quick. Puddin’ and the moving trucks are waiting on me.” Harley waved her hand dismissively. J didn’t like waking up without her. He never said anything, but he was always a bit more prone to killing henchmen than usual for the rest of the day. While Jemma was amusing, she had things to do. Namely ride her clown senselessly before they blew up the old hide out.

      “Sure, yeah.” Jemma nodded sounding uncharacteristically nervous. Harley sat up in her chair and assessed the young woman in front of her. She was fidgeting anxiously with the necklace Harley had given her for her 17th birthday (well, what Harley had arbitrarily decided was her 17th birthday despite Jemma's loud and repeated protests that it wasn't) and there was a bead of sweat working down her temple.

      “What's a matter with you, girly-girl?” Asked Harley staring at the girl, "ya not tryna walk out on me?" Harley laughed, not sincerely believing it. No one walked out on her. No Gotham-ite would dare disrespect their queen like that. But the look on Jemma's face made Harley stop in her tracks and wonder if maybe her joke was something approaching true. 

      “No, well- I hope I’m not.” Jemma responded clearing her throat. Harley gritted her teeth, somehow the Jemma still didn’t realize that the wasn't the kind of job you quit. The only way you left Grin and Bare once her or Mr. J got their claws in you was in a body bag.

      “Gonna need a bit more of an explanation, hun-bun,” Harley cooed in a dangerously sweet voice. There weren’t very many people she liked enough to keep alive for any length of time. It would be a shame if Jemma suddenly fell out of that category. Harley forced herself to smile through the simmering rage while fingering the gun that was resting on her lap.

      “Well you see… I uh- fuck.” Jemma crossed her legs and smoothed her frizzy hair. After a few moments of tense silence, she blurted out “I’mpregnantandI’mkeepingit.”

      “What?” Harley asked, unable to make out individual words.

      “I’m pregnant and my pimp is letting me keep this one if I can make the same amount of money I was before I got knocked up.” Jemma said in a much slower (if not calmer) voice.

      “I see,” said Harley, laughing. She got up, still holding her gun, and walked behind her desk and poured herself a long shot of whiskey, threw it back, and poured another. There was a strange sensation in Harley’s chest that she couldn’t quiet identify. It wasn’t anger and it wasn’t sadness, but it was definitely an uncomfortable cousin of the two. She walked back slowly trying to decide how to respond.

      “I promise I just found out. If the old guy was my boss I would have just quit. But like you said when you first took me on, it's a win-win. I keep you entertained and you keep me safe and... I know it's stupid and you keep telling me I shouldn't, but I like you. You're like the terrifying older sister I never had or knew I wanted- the baby doesn't have to get in the way of that." Having Jemma call say she was like a sister felt odd. Harleen didn't have siblings and Harley Quinn didn't have friends in the conventional sense but she _did_ enjoy Jemma. 

      “Interesting,” Harley muttered aware her voice was too flat and her face was too blank. Giving Jemma a less physical job for a few months wouldn’t be that hard and it wouldn’t really interfere with having Jemma entertain her. But something about the news made Harley angry, like she wanted to yell at the nervous young woman and tell her to go fuck herself. It also made her kind of want to cry for reasons she didn’t want to think about.

      Jemma continued without noticing the face Harley was making, "I could waitress or clean or make drinks, anything. I just need to make enough money not to be put out on the streets or have my pimp force me to- he’s made me get rid of the last two. I didn't mind when I got rid of the first one but I don't like that self centered prick telling me what I can and can't do.” Jemma’s words came out in an impassioned rushed before trailing off. Harley tried to keep her face neutral even as she found herself wanting to scream at and shake the scared girl in front of her.

      "Of course he tells you what to do," Harley snapped, "he's your pimp not your friend. What did you expect?" Harley scoffed. What the fuck was she thinking? Harley might give Jemma shit for being naive, but she wasn't stupid. She should know better than to think people like them got to have kids. What kind of twisted, fucked up person would even want to bring a kid into this part of Gotham's underbelly? How dare Jemma get to have something she couldn’t. Harley froze mid-thought, unsure where the last idea came from. It’s not like Harleen had ever wanted kids or there was any place in Harley’s world for a baby. She giggled quietly to herself, ACE and the ECT must have fucked her up in some creative ways she hadn’t appreciated. She knew she was crazy; just didn’t know she was crazy enough to have that flavor of intrusive thought.

      "I'm not stupid. I just don't got a lot of options here." Jemma said in an exhausted voice that belied her age. "My pimp gets to decide everything for me. He's giving me a choice here if I can make enough money. And... I just want it- him, her. Whatever it is." Jemma said in an exhausted voice that belied her age.

      Harley forced herself to smile, knowing that she preferred Jemma when she was happy (she could be an angsty little thing when she wanted to be) and that being pregnant (inexplicably) made her happy. Even if Harley didn’t _feel_ happy for her all good games need a little deception. She walked around the table and threw her arms around Jemma and let out a high pitch squeal Harleen had uttered so many times back in her sorority days.

      “We'll work something out, go on and tell your pimp that you’ll keep your job here. He buys from Puddin’, right?” Harley asked.

      “Absalom has been dealing with ya for a bunch of years.” Jemma nodded excitedly.

      “Ok, tell him that we’ll give him a 5% discount for the next year. That work for ya?” She asked with a big grin while wondering what the funniest way to kill Jemma would be if she got too annoying. 

      “Yes!” Jemma yelled, wrapping her arms around Harley’s shoulders and jumping up and down in excitement. “Oh my god, thank you so much. You better believe this kid is going to be calling you Sugar Mama Quinn!”

      Jemma was too excited to notice the blank expression on Harley face.

      After Jemma left Harley sat at her desk staring blankly at her ledger fiddling with her gun trying to ignore the tight feeling in her chest.

 

* * *

 

 

      “Puddin?” Harley called out from somewhere near the entrance of the armory.

      “Over here, cupcake.” He yelled back while running his hands over wires that crisscrossed the empty shelves without turning to look at her.

      “Wayda doing?” She asked, skipping to his side holding a large moving box.

      “Just taking care of a few last details.”  He’d forgotten that payday was coming up until he woke up to find her side of the bed empty save a pair of panties and a note telling him she’d be back in an hour. He’d told her half a dozen times she could just have an underling do the books but since the last two had taken a cut for themselves she’d refused. While he was slightly grumpy that she’d skipped off before he woke up, he knew if he said anything she’d just tell him that if he didn’t want her to have to go to work without him he needed to stop fucking while she was trying to work. And there was exactly zero chance of that happening.

      ‘“How was paperwork?”

      “Meh,” she said in a flat tone while plopping the box down. J thought her voice sounded off and turned to face her. If her face had shown anything, it was gone by the time he looked at her. “The girls are fine. Profits are up and I still gotta find someone to replace Sugar. I don’t know how she lasted that long her without either of us killing her but hey, everyone’s luck runs out some time. But now we’re gonna be down two girls which is no good.”

      “Two?” J asked, arching his brow. He didn’t care so much about the money and the girls were only a cut of the total profits, but they were a useful way to launder the money that fueled their escapades. “Who did you kill this time?”

      “I didn’t!” Squealed Harley in response, “although I wouldn’t mind killing Star…” She trailed off, her eyes going out of focus for a moment before popping back to reality. “Jemma got knocked up and she’s keeping it for some reason.” Harley shrugged, “She’s entertaining enough to figure something out. Also, we’re giving her pimp a discount.”

      “Don’t get too attached. Employees aren’t pets,” he chided, “they’re work animals.”

      “I promise I won't give it a name, Daddy” Harley stuck her tongue out in response and crossed her arms. “But really though, wadaya doing down here? The boys are half way across Gotham with our toys, Puddin’. I thought you’d be chomping at the bit to get out of dodge and to our new spot.” J just shrugged in response.

      “I was just checking Slappy’s work. Making sure we were ready to blow once you got back.”

      “Awe, look at you- being so through.” Harley giggled, resting her head on his chest. She sighed after a moment, “you gonna miss this place?” J looked at her oddly, the idea of missing something was a bit of a foreign concept.

      “Why would I do that?”

      “I dunno,” Harley shrugged before sitting on an island that use to house their small arms. “It’s the place you brought me back to after ACE and it’s the first place we lived together.” J paused to consider her words. He supposed this particular hideout had more importance than any of the others he’d stayed in before, but it never occurred to him to get attached to a place.

      “Not really, cupcake. Are you?” He looked down at her wondering what was going on in her crazy confusing head.

      “Meh. I’m really excited about our new place but it feels weird to be saying goodbye to this one.” J nodded, mostly understanding what she meant.

      “Well my dearest, all our other friends have gone to bring our stuff over to the new place and unpack. Why don’t we give it proper good bye before lighting it up?” He growled. Harley giggled as J walked between her spread legs and pulled her against him.

      “I’ve got an even better idea,” she whispered in his ear, “why don’t we have round one in our room then go park the car just out of the blast range for round two while we watch this place go up in smoke?”

      “I love how your mind works,” J chuckled evilly before crushing his lips to hers.

 

* * *

 

 

      “Do you have any idea where my shoes are?” J called from their new closet.

      “Probably with my knives, where ever the hell they are.” She yelled while shaking a pillow into its case.

      “Damn it.” He cursed, tiptoeing around half empty boxes to flop on to their bed.

      “Oy! I just made that.” Harley yelled jokingly and flopped onto the bed alongside her frustrated clown.

      “I’m bored.” He moaned dramatically. “My lab wasn’t even half way set up when I checked on it last and there’s nothing to do at the club for a few more hours.”

      “We could go blow something up?” Harley asked cheerfully.

      “No idea which boxes the explosives are in.”

      “We could go play with guns?” Harley asked in a slightly less optimistic tone.

      “All I have are my hand guns.” He responded mournfully.

      “Torture?” She asked worriedly.

      “I killed our last playmate yesterday.”

      “What about one of the goons?” She asked again in a slightly desperate voice.

      “Not until they’re done unpacking.” He said in an overly dramatic mournful tone.

      “Puddin’! What are we gonna do?” She wined, sounding more than a little mad.

      “Unpack I guess.” J said petulantly.

      “Fine,” she huffed before walking back to their new bathroom and opening yet another box of medical supplies, beauty products, and bubble bath.

      “I found your knives!” J yelled from the closet making Harley roll her eyes with a small smile on her face.

      Moving to a new house is never easy. Harleen had cursed a blue streak when she moved from Brooklyn to Gotham and she hadn’t even had that much stuff. She somehow had managed to acquire more clothes in the last year and change with J than she had in all of her university days. That wasn’t even counting her new collections of weapons. Thankfully there were enough henchmen around she didn’t have to do that much work, she mostly just sat and pointed. But J didn’t want any outsiders in their private apartment. Harley didn’t particularly want that either but would have been willing to trade almost anything to get out of the sea of extremely boring boxes.

      At least she only had to start doing work once they moved in, unlike the henchmen who had been at it for months. Once Harley and J had agreed on a new spot (which had taken a small eternity) the men had to clear out the old circus grounds of unwanted vagrants and anything that could attract the attention of thieves or the police. Then they had to clean out and remodel the art deco theater at the center of the grounds. Harley and J had mostly agreed about the contemporary redesign, but both were prone to changing their minds. More than once they agreed upon a design only to make the goons tear it out and restart. It turned out fairly well, if she did say so herself.The whole thing looked pictures Harleen would covet in a fancy art book in her high school’s grungy library.  She was half tempted to keep the designer they'd kidnapped alive for the next time they moved, but she complained too much and Harley had caught her checking out her Puddin' more than once. Really, what did the stupid thing expect? She wasn't going to let her live after that. 

* * *

 

      Harley yawned and stretched back against her Puddin’s body. He normally was too restless to sleep for more than a few hours at once and was often out and about before she woke up. The mornings (well, technically evenings) she had with him in bed always felt special. Maybe she should tire him out by moving hideouts more often, she giggled.

      She closed her eyes tighter and snuggled back against his warm body. He felt so good against her. Harleen hadn’t been a cuddler, she always wanted to run screaming from the various men she’d shared beds with (or, ideally, make them run screaming from her), but J brought out a different side of her that would be content to stay spooning until the end times. He groaned lightly in his sleep and convulsively pulled her tighter, his hand twitching around her breast. She sighed and pressed her body against his more fully and enjoyed the rather obvious feeling of his approval.

      “If I open my eyes will there still be boxes?” J moaned; his voice scratchy from sleep.

      “Only a few.” Harley giggled. In response J pulled the blankets from around their waists to over their heads.

      “I reject your reality and substitute it with my own.” He yawned.

      “Any reality where I wake up like this is good with me Puddin’.” She responded, rubbing her bottom against his erection making the blankets slip back down their bodies.

      “Careful Harlequin, don’t you know better than to play with explosives?” J growled.

      “Maybe you should teach me, wanna play hide the dynamite?” She purred. J laughed in response and pulled her top leg over his hip. He laid delicate kisses along her jaw and shoulder.

      “Good morning to you too,” he said while tracing his hand up her thigh.

      “Did you just say good morning to my vagina?” Harley asked incredulously.

      “It’s important to greet your friends.” He laughed in response while his hand up and down her thigh lazily.

      “Usually a handshake is part of a traditional greeting, isn’t it Puddin’?” she teased, her voice deepened with arousal.

      “I’ve always been known for my proper social etiquette.” He quipped back and nipped at her neck. She moaned in response and tilted her head further to give him greater access. His lips continued on their trail across her shoulder and neck while his hand moved inch by torturous inch up her thigh. His fingers eventually reached her lips and petted them gently.

 

* * *

 

      The outside of her lips was dry but knew he her inner petals would soon be wet and wanting. He was not disappointed. While he wished he could watch what he was doing but he was too comfortable spooned against Harley to bother moving.

      His fingers lightly skimmed her clitoris, dragging the small amount of moisture from her opening to her nub. J began to trace little circles over its tip. Harley’s hand snuck around the back of J’s head and locked her fingers in his hair, and she began to writhe against him. Her other arm reached out in front of her to hold J’s hand that was supporting her head.

      J smiled into Harley’s hair as his lazy caresses began to build momentum. After several minutes he let his fingers trail down to her opening and delicately slid two inside her. The positioning on their sides gave Harley the perfect position to rock against J’s hand while he held his fingers in a static curled position. The palm of his hand pressed against her clitoris, accenting the thrust of his fingers.

      “Fuck! Perfect Puddin’,” she whimpered, “please!” J smirked against her neck and nipped at her absurdly soft skin. The harsher he sucked and the more aggressive his nips the, harder she bucked against his hand. Morning sex for them usually started slow but neither of them excelled at gentle. In any capacity. Her passion was infectious, and he could feel his own need building as he waited for his girl to fall apart. After some minutes of humping his hand, Harley’s exhales became whimpers and she began to mutter J’s name.

      “Please, need to come. Let me come for you,” she gasped while her fingernails dug into the hard flesh of his forearm.

      “Say my name, tell the world who owns this pussy.” He growled, “come for me.” J relished in the sound of her voice and groaned against the nape of her neck while she grew wetter around his fingers. With very little warning Harley cried out and the dull wet sound between her legs grew obscenely loud before her pussy pulsed against his hand. J groaned along with Harley.

      “Is Daddy’s Little Monster ready for more?” He growled against her neck. While she was still recovering, J hiked her leg up higher on his hip and aligned himself with her, resting his tip at her entrance.

      Harley’s hand unwove itself from J’s hair and came to rest on top of his wet hand that was now clutched to her hip. He would never admit it, but he loved how much skin contact this position had. It made him feel like she was consuming him. J forced himself to pause and wait for Harley to begin to move, he had a hard time predicting when further contact just after orgasm would help or hurt things.

      This morning it seemed the resounding answer was ‘help.’ Harley placed her hand over his and arched her hips to impale herself on his length.

      “Need you inside of me.” She moaned, giving him a heated glance over her shoulder. J pushed the rest of the way inside her with one slow stroke. The sensation of her hot wet walls never ceased to amaze him and the feeling of her pussy milking him just after she came was mind blowing.

      J pressed a kiss to her sweaty neck. He could hear her pussy coating him as they rocked against each other in a slow, unhurried rhythm. A rhythm that quickly became a losing battle as Harley clenched her muscles around him each time he bottomed out. J tried to stay slow and relaxed and enjoy the moment, but it was pointless. Each little sigh, the slurp of her sex, the slap of their skin together, her little squeaks when he touched her just so- they were intoxicating.

      His fingers dug deeper into her hips with almost bruising force to pull her back onto his cock more aggressively. Over the rat’s nest of her hair, he could see Harley’s eyes close and her head tilt back. In the morning when she was so relaxed, she was easy to please. Judging by her high pitch cries it wouldn’t be long.

      “Please!” She gasped, surprising J with the speed at which she was approaching orgasm. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, J moved faster between her legs and groaned from the sensation of her pulsing around him.

      “Yes, Harley.” He could feel her growing wetter and pulling at his cock in painfully delicious ways. “Come for me.”  He allowed his fingers to trail down from their death grip on her hip to her clit and trace light circles. She was there. He was trapped inside of her with the strength of her muscles that pulsed against him.

      Harley was panting into the pillows. She looked as if she’d been fucked to nirvana, but J wasn’t done yet. He pulled out of her, making her gasp in shock, and pulled her to her knees.

 

* * *

 

      Harley shot her man a devilish grin over her shoulder. She was somewhat exhausted from already coming twice but he was on a mission. And any mission that involved doggy was good with her. She stretched her arms out in front of her and arched her back for his viewing pleasure.

      “Ready for more Puddin’?” She giggled.

      “I ought to spank you for the lip on you,” he smiled back before groaning. Harley had reached back and aligned him with her entrance and backed on to his cock. “Fuck, you’ll be the death of me.” He muttered.

      Harley could tell he was getting close. He wasn’t very vocal until the very end and only got talkative in the minutes before release. She liked hearing what he had to say almost as much as she liked having him come for her. Their rhythm began again with his hands on her waist guiding her against him while she propped herself up on her elbows.

      She smiled against the pillows, relishing in the feeling of his skin on hers. His cock felt perfect inside of her, throbbing and pulsing against her walls while the angle of his thrusts pressed against her perfectly. She dimly heard herself moan but was more preoccupied by the quiet grunting noises that her lover was trying to restrain.

      “Let me hear you Puddin’. You feel so good, need to hear you.” She cried, willing her partner to speak.

      “Can’t.” He gasped, moving harder against her. He groaned loudly while his tempo continued to increase. “You feel too good like this. So tight,” his words were cut off by a grunt while his fingers clenched painfully around her hips.

      Harley cried out at the bruising force of his fingers. But not in pain. She wasn’t sure which wires got crossed when, but pain somewhere along the line got blended with pleasure. She hadn’t expected coming a third time in one morning but the wetness she felt leaking down his cock made her wonder just what her body could do.

      “Are you close?” She moaned, torn between wanting to find out and wanting to feel her clown fall apart.

      “Almost, fuck.” He grunted moving faster. Harley didn’t know if it was intentional or just a happy accident, but the force of his thrusts forced her forward on her elbows and the head of his cock to rub against her just so.

      “Harder!” She shouted, almost overwhelmed by the pleasure that was rapidly consuming her.

      “Well, well, well,” he gasped in reaction to her pulsing pussy, “are you going to come for me again Miss. Quinn?” He was too breathless to have the same authority as his usual Joker-at-the-club-voice, but it still carried enough power to make her gasp.

      “I think so, Puddin’ I-” her next words were cut off by a short cry. She could feel J’s cock go so hard it was almost sharp and knew she only had so much longer to find out.

      “Touch yourself.” He growled against her neck, bending over to bite at the tender flesh. One of his pale tattooed hands snaked around her front to grab a breast and tease her nipple.

      Harley shifted her weight onto one hand, trying to balance despite his pounding rhythm against her bottom. Her fingers lightly gave her clit an encouraging rub. She bit her lip in concentration as she surrendered to the gloriously unbearable sensation of his cock inside of her. For a moment she thought the feeling was going to slip away and she cried out in frustration. But then J sat back and pulled her so that she was almost sitting in his lap with his hands holding her upright by the breasts, crushing her against his chest.

      “Fuck! Harley,” he ground out. “Need you.” He grunted mindlessly. She wasn’t sure if it was his words, the sensation of his hands griping her breasts, her fingers tickling her clit, or his cock drilling against her- but it was enough. Her lower body started to tremble as the pressure in her pussy exploded. Suddenly her pussy was spouting around his cock and her back arched sharply, almost crying with bliss.

      Vaguely, through the haze of her pleasure, she could hear J crying out louder than she had heard him before in his deep voice. His cock throbbed violently inside of her as she felt him gushing as if he hadn’t come in weeks rather than mere hours.

      Slowly, J lowered her back to the bed and returned to their spooning position, his cock still buried deep inside her. The two shivered in residual pleasure against each other. Eventually J slipped out of her and Harley rolled to rest her upper body on his torso. She almost purred when he began running his fingers through her white hair.

      “I don’t want to get up.” Harley moaned against his pectoral.

       “The club won’t burn down if we’re not there any time soon. Hell, it’s probably more likely to burn down if we are.”

      “We haven’t killed anyone in like 48 hours.” She wined.

      “Batman will worry if we don’t get back out on the job.” He agreed.

      “You’re so charitable.” She giggled while sashaying across the room. “Goddamn it! How are there still so many boxes?” Harley cried indignantly from the closet. She couldn’t help but smile at J’s answering laugh.

 

* * *

 

      “Are you ready yet?” Harley asked for the millionth time, bouncing up and down on their club apartment’s bed.

      “Perfection takes time!” J responded from the bathroom.

      “How long does it take to put on lipstick and smudge your eyeliner?” She giggled, flopping onto her back. “Frost said the new guy was here like fifteen minutes ago.”

      “Har har. I am aware thank you.” Besides, he thought to himself, never hurt to let a nice cut of meat marinate. Particularly since this slice thinks he’s special enough to request to meet in his office instead of VIP like everyone else. He put down the lipstick and checked his reflection one last time before walking back to the bedroom and admiring his Jester. “Let us go my Queen,” he said sarcastically. She stuck her tongue out at him and took his arm, pulling him down the elevator to the hidden door to his office.

      “Ah, my friend.” J smirked, enjoying the way the tough man in the seat in front of his desk jumped and twisted around to find the source of the voice.

      “Joker, good to finally meet you.” The man stood to shake J’s hand. J walked past and sat his desk without giving him a second glance.

      “We don’t shake.” Harley said in a catty tone, following J and sitting on the edge of his desk. The man started looking her up and down slowly before leering at her. “Sit down.”

      “I don’t mind doing anything you say, beautiful.” He smirked. J suppressed a growl, as the man continued “haven’t I seen you dance a time or two here, princes?” J fought the urge to tell him the Queen only danced when she felt like teasing him all night. His combination of arousal from watching her and anger from other men seeing her those always had explosive results (sometimes literally).

      “Are we here on business or pleasure, Mr. Slater?” J asked in a mocking voice. He had hoped that the underworld would know better than to look at her that way by now. Clearly not.

      “Of course, of course. Business _first_ ,” he winked. “Now, I happen to have a rather generous offer that I think you would benefit from.”

      “So you’ve said. What would that be exactly?” J ground out. He hated when people thought they had any kind of power or status in his clubs. There were only two people with any real power and Slater was neither of them.

      “Now as I’m sure you’re aware I’ve recently been elected to governor,” the man said with no small degree of pride. Actually, J hadn’t known that, but he didn’t particularly care. “And I happen to know that getting rid of you is priority number one for several officials. Now I can’t stop them, but I can make their lives difficult enough that they won’t even get close.”

      J rolled his eyes. Of course he was priority number one. What else would he be? It wasn’t as if anyone else was close to playing so many pranks. The idiot man was looking so smug and proud of himself for giving him obvious information and offering him something as useless as protection. He made a note to himself to kill whichever of his goons decided this was a good idea.

      “’course you’d want something back for that?” Harley asked, taking over for J as his mind wandered in more murderous directions. J was still listening but wasn’t interested enough to participate. He began to pace behind the man to amuse himself. Watching people pretend they weren’t afraid was always funny. Much more fun than listening to some self-important idiot ramble.

      “A pretty thing like you with a head for business, I like that.” Slater drawled at Harley. “I’m making this offer to a few other big players in town and I’m a busy man. I can’t help all of you. I had been planning on going with whoever offered me the most. But, for you Joker, I’m thinking let’s say 5 mil and your girl and leave it at that?”

      J froze. His face went from hostile but mostly blank to murderous in moments. He looked directly at Harley, wondering which of them had dibs on this guy. Typically, he killed men who so much as looked at her too long and she only really showed her claws if they touched her. This was the first one dumb enough to try to barter her. Harley looked up at J and grinned with a deadly glint in her eye that clearly communicated that she wanted to play with their food.

      “Interesting idea, Mr. Bigshot.” Harley said, standing slowly and sashaying towards the governor. “What do you think Puddin’?” She giggled and sitting down on the man’s lap. J gripped the butt of his gun so hard his knuckles cracked. He knew she didn’t want to be in the man’s lap and that these were just the rules to some new game- but the idea of someone else touching her under any circumstance infuriated him.

      Harley giggled and tipped her head back behind the back of the man’s chair and mouthed ‘let’s play’ at J before sitting back up.

      “What makes you think that’s a fair deal?” J asked, fighting to keep his voice even and play along with whatever new game this was.

      “Seems to me like you could use the protection. I’m not asking for anything unreasonable. You got the cash and this bitch will do whatever you tell her to. Won’t you darling?” Slater said to Harley, putting one hand on her knee and the other on her jaw to force her to look at him. J saw red as he crossed back to sitting behind his desk. He hoped Harley didn’t want to play all night because he could feel his grip on the charade fading.

      “You think I should give up my girl for a little bit of police protection?” J asked in a threatening tone. The governor froze as he looked at J for the first time since he pitched his proposal.

      “It seemed like a reasonable offer.” The man said, lifting his hands off of Harley’s and holding them up by his head with a strained laugh. “I'd settle for the money and one night with her, ” J wanted to laugh, the idiot thought back tracking and stopping touching his girl would be enough to save him. "I don't want bad blood between us, Joker."

      “What, you don’t want me?” Harley asked in a vicious baby voice. J began to grin; the game was getting good. “Thought I was enough to sweeten the pot, and have you pick us.” She stood and turned so she was leaning over Slater, one arm on either armrest of his chair. Harley turned over her shoulder and tucked one pigtail over her opposite shoulder and winked at J.

      “You don’t wanna play with Harley no more? You don’t wanna have fun-” Harley continued in her baby voice while tilting her body further to one side prompting J to realize that his little monster was lining him up for a very funny shot. He had no patience for whatever else Harley would have said. Without a second thought, J emptied his clip into the unsuspecting governors head over Harley’s shoulder before throwing the gun to the ground and grabbing Harley around the waist.

      She was already laughing by the time J grabbed her. Her deep throated laughs were contagious, making J cackle until his eyes watered and his ribs hurt. The man’s face had been hilarious. He didn’t ever bother to count the people he killed but he suspected he hit double digits of men that had made a pass at Harley some time ago. But before tonight he’d never seen one of them so smug, thinking he’d gotten her, and then so horrified. It was the perfect joke.

      “I think that’s the funniest thing you’ve ever done,” J eventually wheezed.

      “I know!” she shouted back while wiping the man’s blood out of her eyes, “did you see his face? He went from this,” she made a very self-satisfied leer, “to this,” she made a shocked and horrified one, “so fast!” The two almost collapsed against J’s desk in their chuckles.

      “Can we do this from now on whenever they get gross?” Harley giggled while removing Slater’s watch and securing it around her bicep.

      “If we do it too much it might not be so funny anymore.” He responded wistfully.

      “Fine. Can we do it on date nights?” she pouted.

      “God you’re perfect.” J growled, kissing her deeply. After several minutes he pulled away and frowned. “I have blood in my hair, don’t I?” He asked.

      “Well Puddin’, given that it’s all over me, it seems pretty likely.” She giggled.

      “Goddamn it.” He mumbled, “why did I bother to get dressed up?

      “Because you like showing off. Come on, let’s get us clean and then go hold court for the lowly surfs.”

      “Just go get clean?” J asked in a knowing voice.

      “I was rather hoping you’d spend extra time cleaning the fun parts.”

      “My word Ms. Quinn, you can’t be insinuating that murder turns you on?” She stopped him in his track and pushed him against the wall, kissing him hard.

      “If you haven’t figured that out by now, we truly are well and truly fucked.” She giggled in response, taking his hand with her bloodied one. The two walked back to their secondary apartment through the hidden door, both of them stepping over Slaters lifeless body and neither giving it a second glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally viewed the scene of Harley and Monster T as sex trafficking, and I still think that is a totally fair interpretation. But the fact that Harley took his watch as a trophy from his body made me reconsider and wonder what if this was a (seriously fucked up) game to our twisted duo? I hope you like my interpretation, let me know what you think in the comments below!


	8. Secrets, Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was blood everywhere. All over her hands, all over the sink. She was vaguely aware she was crying. Somehow, she had ended up on the floor and wasn’t entirely sure how she’d gotten there. When J had watched the doctor realign her fracture and stitch up her bicep. He told her there was all kinds of junk in the wound, weird chunks of plastic and some ultra-thin wire. The doctor had thrown them away before she’d looked at them.
> 
> She should have insisted on seeing the shrapnel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey al! Congrats on making it to the weekend. This chapter got stupidly long so I ended up breaking it in three parts. I'm posting part 1 today but you'll get parts 2 and 3 next week (yes, that means you get *two* chapters next week, you're welcome). They take place one right after another but I didn't wan't to post a 140+ page chapter. We're getting very close to the beginning of Suicide Squad. 
> 
> Songs: Garden- Halsey; Gun in My Hand – Dorothy; Helium- Sia; Happily Ever After – Gin Wigmore

            Joker growled to himself, throwing knives at what was left of the henchman he had strapped to a wall of his study. Once he ran out of knives a sweaty goon would run to the body, remove the knives, and return them to Joker’s desk.

            Batman was pissing him off. Batsy was his favorite toy and he didn’t like sharing him with the other self-proclaimed villains of Gotham. Those boring antagonists just wanted money and power. Sure, they had gimmicks but they weren’t artists in the way _The Joker_ was and certainly didn’t have as good of a sense of humor. None of them understood the value of chaos. They didn’t even understand the fun that could be had just by trying to trick the flying rodent into showing his true colors. They just wanted him dead.

            Other than Harley, no one else understood how funny it would be to make the masked crusader slip up and admit he was just another fucked up man playing pretend, imagining his need for violence was some kind of moral good. She was the only person who almost got the joke. While sometimes he thought she wanted to kill Batman more than she wanted to play with him, she was never averse to prank.

            “Speak, or rather think, of the devil,” J chuckled dangerously, still throwing knives, when Harley slipped into his office. She shot him a cocky grin while dodging J’s latest toss.

            “Go away.” Harley said in a catty tone to the henchmen playing fetch with Mr. J’s knives as if she was shocked that he had the audacity to be standing in the same room as her. The man audibly let out a breath he’d been holding for god knows how long before sprinting out the door. J almost laughed at the man’s obvious relief but was still too pissed off.

            “Whatsa mattah with my Puddin?” Harley crooned while sashaying over to his desk.

            “Batsy has a new friend.” J muttered grumpily, aware he sounded like a petulant child but not particularly caring.

            “Oh?” Harley asked, sliding into his lap.

            “Some new tarot card wielding asshole named The Reader wandered over from Metropolis.”

            “Haven’t even heard of it- can’t be all that interesting.” She crooned while playing with his green hair.

            “That’s because his jokes are stupid. He pretends to use some magical mumbo-jumbo bullshit to decide who he should kill and how.”

            “That’s just pathetic. Can’t even admit he just likes killing people.” Harley said with a laugh.

            “He made a big splash at a spiritualism conference this weekend. Killed thirty people.”

            “That’s not even close to your record Puddin’.” She giggled lovingly, caressing his cheek. “Not nearly as impressive as you.”

            “Obviously,” he spat. “But it’s distracting Batsy from the much bigger, badder villain in Gotham.” The corner of his mouth twitched in a small smile as his girl continued to caress his face. At least he never had to share his Harley. She was all his.

            “Well, whadaya gonna do ‘bout that?” She purred raking her nails through his hair and shifting to straddle his waist.

            “I was thinking we ambush the new kid in the locker room.” J growled, tapping his lips with his finger.

            “What are we gonna do to him?” She hummed, kissing his neck.

            “We should borrow some of his toys,” he groaned as Harley began to suck at his pulse point. “We could broadcast us playing with him for all of Gotham to see. Make him admit in front of the class that he likes his extracurriculars, that he’s just killing for fun.”

            “Uh-huh.” Harley purred before kneeling down on the carpet and unbuttoning his shirt.

            “We’ll even invite Batsy to join us for the playdate.” J growled, gripping her hair.

            “What are we gonna do with him?” Harley giggled, nibbling on his lower abs. J groaned at the sensation, reveling in the distracting burn of her mouth.

            “Well first we let Batsy think maybe he can save one of the bad guys, push him into a moral quandary. Maybe make him decide between a so-called innocent and our so-called villain” Joker growled with a slight giggle.

            “Then what?” She panted against his abdomen.

            “Obviously, we still kill the stupid little magician and Batsy will have to go home crying while we run off into the sunset.” He knew she probably wanted him to keep speaking but her mouth and fingers were diverting his attention. Harley made a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a moan as she began to unbutton his fly with her mouth. Her fingers were trailing up and down his thighs in damnably distracting circles.

            Using her hair as reins, he forced Harley to look up at him. Her eyes were dark, and her cheeks flushed with arousal. He wanted to drag her up to kiss her red painted lips but was enjoying what her mouth was doing too much.

            “Yes?” She asked, infuriatingly teasingly. Her expression alone made his cock twitch as it filled with blood.

            “When you play with dynamite, don’t be surprised if it explodes.” He growled approvingly. Harley giggled in response and reached her hands up to his hips and pulled his trousers and briefs to his ankles.

            “What else are we gonna do to The Reader, Puddin’?” She asked huskily before her lips returned to his thighs, kissing up and down and making small painfully delicious bites at the sensitive juncture between his inner thigh and groin.

            “He has some toys I wouldn’t mind borrowing.” He grunted, his hands squeezing her hair. Harley pulled away, quickly pulling his shoes and socks off and throwing his clothes somewhere over her shoulder.

            “We could teach him a few new games with his sharpened tarot cards. I wouldn’t mind giving him a lesson or two with that glorified cattle prod that he calls a magic wand. Show him what a real artist can do.” J groaned. She leaned back down, and he could feel her breath coming in panting gusts against the length of his cock. Her hands reached his cock before her lips did, massaging his length up and down with a degree of reverence that made him leak into her palm. J’s hands gripped the arm rests harder in anticipation until the wood creaked under his fingers.

            Her lips finally brushed against his tip, opening her mouth to lap up the pre-cum that had been beading at the tip. Her tongue moved as if it had a mind of its own, darting into the slit at the tip and winding around him like a damn snake. Fuck, thinking was too hard. He knew she wanted him to speak but it was impossible with her sucking him blind.

            “Good girl,” he growled, pulling her hair just hard enough to make her moan. The vibrations of her vocalizations made him choke back a responding groan. She was entirely too good at this. Her fingers that had returned to making ticklish and arousing circles on his inner thighs wandered back to his crotch. One hand grasped the base of his shaft, stroking the length that was not in her hot, wet mouth. The other massaged his balls gently.

            “ _Your_ good girl,” she purred back up at him before moving her mouth from his dick to his balls. At first, she just laid gentle kisses on them that, while arousing, didn’t make his cock twitch the way her mouth on it had. But then she sucked one past her lips, pulling a broken sounding “fuck” past his lips.

            “That’s right, you’re Daddy’s Little Monster, aren’t you?” he said with a growl. He was glad Harley loved having her hair pulled because the way she sucked and lapped at his balls gave little room for anything else. A distant part of him wondered if he should tell her to stop and lie her down on his desk and fuck her silly (an idea his cock endorsed whole heartedly if its’ twitching was anything to go by). But he was enjoying her tongue and wasn’t worried about coming anytime soon, so he let himself relax into his chair.

            J suddenly jolted as one of her hands lifted his sack to allow her tongue to dart beneath it. Part of him shifted uneasily at the idea of her mouth playing with his perineum but as her tongue curled back and forth over a small area, his legs opened wider of their own volition. All he could do was throw his head back and moan. Harley’s hands gripped his muscled thighs, her head canted slightly to the side.

            “Damn it, Harley!” J cursed, his hands tightening in her hair as jolts of pure pleasure shot up his spine. His cock throbbed angrily, demanding direct attention. If she kept going, playing that small area as she was, he would come hands free any minute. But that wasn’t what he wanted just yet.

            He tightened his fingers in her hair and pulled her off of him. She made an upset whining noise and looked up at him with dark, heavily lidded eyes.

            “Didn’t you like that Puddin’?” She asked, out of breath. J all but tackled her, launching out of his seat and pinning her to the ground. Any other complaint she might have made faded into needy whimpers. He kissed her hard, enjoying the hot press of her lips on his and the bitter flavor of his secretions on her tongue.

            “I liked it very, very much.” He said dangerously, “but I didn’t want my Little Monster to be left out of all the fun.” He wasn’t entirely sure how he stripped her but judging by how quickly she got naked and the scraps of fabric around him he would guess one of the bloodied knives from his desk was involved.

            J rolled over so Harley was straddling him. For a moment she reached behind her, ready to slide down onto his length.

            “Nu-uh-uh,” he tutted. “Turn around and sit on my face.” Harley’s eyes went almost as dark as her face went red.

            “Are you sure?” She asked in an uncharacteristically unsure voice. J loved when he took her off guard. His ego was stroked any time he presented something novel to his hypersexualized partner with such a storied past. J reached up and pulled her face down to his.

            “I want you to come all over my face while you suck on me.” He whispered in her ear. Harley just moaned in response, kissing him deeply before rolling off of him. She placed one knee on either side of his head, leaving her delightfully exposed to his touch, and leaned forward to playfully nip at his lower abdomen.

            “Like this?” She asked, licking a hot stripe down his cock. She didn’t wait for an answer before sucking him deep into her throat.

            “Almost perfect.” He grunted before grabbing her hips and pulling her flesh to meet his tongue. He loved the way her soft hips yielded under his touch and her strong thighs tensed against his shoulders. His tongue swiped out and licked the length of her slit, delighted but not surprised by the lagoon waiting for him between her legs.

            He slid his hands up her thighs, one groping her ass and the other rose to tease her pussy lips. He canted his head to suck lightly on her clitoris and run his tongue over it. Her lips parted under his ministrations as he pumped two fingers into her slowly. He could hear her squeal in appreciation around his cock as he rotated his fingers to curl against her sweet spot. She was salty and musky and sweet and tasted like home. He’d feast on her for the rest of his life if she’d let him.

            “Fuck yes. Just like that Little Monster.” He groaned, his head falling back against the carpet. He panted, needing to catch his breath for a moment as Harley did her best to suck his brain out through his cock. Her tongue was flicking over his tip while her hands pulled at his balls. Her fingers roamed to the sensitive place behind his sac, stimulating his prostate through his perineum.

            J dove back between her legs with a vengeance, needing to torment her as much as she was tormenting him. He lightly sucked at her labia. Curled his fingers against her sweet spot. Flicked his tongue over her clit. Teased her rosebud with the tip of his finger. Nipped at her inner thighs. Pressed his fingers at a place deep inside of her that made her twitch. Swirled his tongue over her nub. Lapped the length of her slit. Harley moaned an aria of need around his cock and bucked her hips unsteadily against his face until his nose, chin, and cheeks were soaked.

            With the added layer of being unable to watch what his girl was doing to him, J found himself much closer to coming than he meant to be. He was twitching hard in her hand and bucking against her face. Just when he was trying to restrain his climax, Harley reached back with one hand and wetted a finger in her pussy. Before J could puzzle out just what she was up to, her pointer finger slid inside of him and pressed against a hard spot that made lights dance behind his eyes.

            Too stunned by pleasure to continue eating Harley, J’s head fell back against the floor. He was instate to everything but her mouth on his cock, her hand palming his balls, and her finger thrusting deeply embedded inside him. Her lips paid homage to his cock, thoroughly coating every inch of his flesh in saliva. J was aware he was groaning and grunting loudly but couldn’t bring himself to care. Nor could he bring himself to care that he was rocking back on to her finger.

            “Fuck!” J all but screamed as she thrust her finger against him harder. “Swallow it all, Little Monster.” Harley took him as deep as she could and sucked hard. J was a goner. He could feel himself gushing into her throat, coming with blinding force. Lights flashed before his eyes and he was gasping for air between grunts and groans. As the tidal wave of pleasure receded, he lay there panting and twitching while pressing delicate kisses to Harley’s ankle next to his head.

            “Turn around, Harley. Turn around.” He gasped. Harley turned around, straddling him facing towards him, and stared at him like she was about to eat him alive. Her hair was a mess and her lips swollen. She’d rarely looked so perfect.

            J pulled her to him, kissing her hard and deep before pulling her hips towards his face- almost unintentionally knocking her over. Once she’d regained her balance, he dove back into her pussy. His fingers slid back inside her, intentionally curling them against her G-spot. It was his turn to show his digital prowess. He returned to licking her clit, not wasting time on her thighs or labia, she was already worked up enough- her fluids trickled down his chin like he’d just taken a bite of a juicy peach.

            “Please, Puddin’! Please…” Harley begged, her hips undulating against his face while she harshly massaged her breasts. J groaned at the image and latched on to her clitoris, running his tongue over her nub which he’d sucked into his mouth. He could feel her channel twitching around his fingers as her front wall began to swell.

            He was half tempted to pull away and talk to her but couldn’t bring himself to take his lips off of her. He wanted- needed- to see her come for him. Harley was gorgeous when she came. It made him feel a kind of unique male pride. Some days all he wanted was to watch his girl come apart beneath him over and over again. Show her the kind of bliss they could only find together. Show her just how good surrendering to madness could be.

            “Pudin’!” Harley shouted, her legs shaking violently before freezing. J growled against her flesh. Any other words Harley was trying to say devolved into high pitch feminine screams. Her walls contracted tight around his fingers, expelling a gush of juices that sprayed against his chin and pooled around his neck.

            Just when J would gentle the thrust of his fingers and slow the rhythm of his tongue, Harley’s whimpered moans would roar back to shouts. She would impale herself on his fingers until he resumed thrusting hard against her sweet spot and scream for him not to stop. Her orgasms seemed to roll into each other with only brief periods of respite between them. It wasn’t until she’d gushed against his chin three more times, screaming in a now hoarse voice, that she finally collapsed in a boneless heap by his side.

            J rolled her so she rested atop his body. He wasn’t sure how long the two of them laid there exchanging sleepy kisses, but Harley eventually started to snore lightly and (while he’d never admit it) adorably. Eventually, he stood and picked her up to carry her to their bedroom. He’d rest for a little while with her, maybe go for round two, then there was a prank to plan and a stupid Metropolis “villain” to entrap.

 

* * *

           

            “Are we patched in?” J asked Frost without looking up from his collection of weapons. He could hear Frost radio over to the secondary location where they intended to stash The Reaper.

            “The girls hacked into the Gotham News Tonight and we’ll be ready to cut in on their broadcast whenever you are.” Frost eventually responded after finishing speaking to their rag-tag pseudo IT team.

            “Are Slappy and Harley in position?”

            “Yes. They got into the targets apartment about ten minutes ago.”

            “Good.” J grinned dangerously and began to make his selection from the collection of small arms and knives in front of him. “Be ready to go once I get my goodie bag together.”

            “Yes Sir.” Frost responded in a clipped tone.

            “Batsy is gonna love this.” J laughed, cackling until his ribs hurt.

 

* * *

 

            Harley wasn’t sure where she was and didn’t want to give away that she was awake in the off chance she’d been captured. Last thing she could remember she and her Puddin’ were getting in his car to go do…. Something.

            They weren’t going to the club; she wasn’t dressed right for that. No, she had been in her red and black jumpsuit she only wore for particularly funny pranks. Who were they pranking? Wracking her brain, she could vaguely remember some over grown goth kid throwing sharpened cards that gave one hell of a papercut. He had a name… what was it?

            She was pretty sure she and her Puddin’ were going to go hurt the goth kid (though that wasn’t exactly rocket science). She couldn’t really remember why, but she definitely kidnapped him. She could remember tying him up and putting a hood on him with Slappy. She was pretty sure she remembered killing him. He’d made a funny sound when she beat him with his ‘magic wand.’

            Batsy had shown up at some point… which she thought had been part of their plan. There were cameras so they probably had been baiting him. Judging by her lack of restraints she was pretty sure wherever she was, she hadn’t been brought there by Batsy. Meaning she was probably still at the warehouse where she’d stashed the goth kid at or had been brought back home.

            “Puddin?” Harley asked blearily. She tried to sit up but found that even lifting her head off the pillow made her dizzy.

            “I’ll go get him. He was playing Russian roulette with the doctor last I saw him.” A male voice said that took Harley a few moments to identify as Frost.

            “Frosty-boy. How long have I been out for?” She slurred, blinking her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of the bedroom.

            “Most of a day, Batman gave you a hell of a parting gift.  Slappy forced Mr. J to go take a break a couple hours ago and I’ve been standing guard since. Let me go tell Mr. J you’re awake” Frost said with a grim smile before hurrying out the door.

            Harley lay there staring at the ceiling trying to figure out what Batsy had done this time. It was hard to tell when everything was felt so blurry. She had a bitching headache and assumed she was probably concussed. That would explain the memory loss and slurred speech. Flexing her thighs, she could feel a few minor flesh wounds on her legs from the goth’s stupid tarot cards, but she doubted those even needed stitches. She didn’t notice the throbbing on her arm until she tried to wiggle her fingers.

            “Fuck.” Harley said in a slightly awed voice. Whatever J and the doctor gave her, they must have given her a lot of it for her to have not noticed her arm immediately. Judging by the bright pink cast and the number of empty blood bags next to her, Batsy had left her a hell of a party favor. It was kind of miraculous it didn’t hurt more.

            “Language, Miss Quinn.” J drawled, strolling into their bedroom.

            “What the hell did I get hit with?” She asked, “thought Batsy wasn’t into guns.”

            “A baterang. Took out a good chunk of your bicep and damn near broke your humerus in two.” He growled. Harley began to laugh weekly until the pain in her arm made her stop.

            “Kind humorous I busted my humerus, Puddin’.” Harley giggled before noting J’s stony silence.

            “If you weren’t so high on pain killers and low on blood right now, I would turn you over and spank you rosy for scaring me like that.” He growled, sitting next to her on the bed.

            “I’m sorry Puddin’.” She said rubbing his thigh with her good hand. “How bad was it?”

            “It took an hour to stop the bleeding and I don’t even know how long the good doctor spent removing chunks of shrapnel. You had all kinds of chunks of plastic in there.” He said in a grim tone.

            “Fuck.” Harley cursed again, unsure how she’d gotten extra goodies in her arm from a batarang. “How did I manage that?”

            “As strange as it is, I have no idea. It was quite funny to find anything other than a giant fucking piece of metal in there.”

            “I’m sorry Puddin’. Was our prank with the goth kid funny? I don’t remember much of it.” She asked with big eyes, eager to know just how their latest shenanigans played out.

            “Oh, my dear, it was perfect.” J chuckled dangerously before recounting their adventures the night before.

 

* * *

 

            J was about ready to tell Harley’s arm to go fuck itself and have her go play on the silks or blow something up. He very much enjoyed his Little Monster, but this cooped up sick Harley had him ready to tear his hair out. She was bored out of her mind and Slappy forcing her to do PT was definitively not helping.

            He supposed he could take her to the club, just to get a change of scenery, but they never went to the club when they were visibly injured. That would show weakness. Going to the club would probably also be counterproductive to the whole ‘rest’ thing. She’d already gone through four casts in the last three weeks when she’d escaped his or Slappy’s attention and talked some of the lower ranking men into fighting her. Every time he left for the club, he could see her try (and fail) not to pout. Not to mention she’d looked half ready to beat him to death with her cast when he went out on the town to play a few pranks.

            J was officially out of way to distract her. They’d plotted a whole baker’s dozen of pranks. He’d given her three more tattoos (his favorite was the “lucky you” tattoo though she seemed to favor the “rotten” one). She’d practiced her torture skills with her non-dominant hand. They’d experimented with all kinds of gasses on all kinds of nameless now dead Gotham-ites. He’d exhausted all the different positions he could think of that wouldn’t hurt her arm or shoulder. She’d burned though a whole stack of romance novels. He’d given Slappy carte blanch to buy all the craft supplies Harley could possibly want. He’d even painted her nails for her after threatening all kinds of creative violence if she ever told anyone.

            “Boss?” Frost asked. J lifted his head from a stack of plans on his desk he’d been hitting his head against and looked at the underling, irritated.

            “What?”

            “I know Miss Quinn is getting stir crazy and you don’t want to bring her to the club while she’s injured. But, what would you think of bringing some of the club to her?”

            “What the fuck does that even mean, Frost.” Joker growled, exasperated.

            “I could bring Jemma here. Obviously blindfolded, take the long way, the whole nine-yards. But she’s pretty good at entertaining Miss Quinn. You’d get a break and she’d be kept busy in a way that hopefully wouldn’t end with yet another shattered cast.”

            “What is Jemma?” J asked with a sneer.

            “It’s the girl she hangs out with at the club.”

            “Ah.” J said, resting his steepled fingers against his lips. “Her little chew toy.” He didn’t particularly like the idea of bringing an outsider into his space, but he needed to find a way to entertain Harley before they were both driven completely insane. Decision made; J nodded sharply at Frost.

            “Bring it to me.” J said dismissively and returned to his plans. Harley had been planning her celebratory first heist for once her arm was back in commission and he was ironing out some of the wrinkles. Between all the pot they’d been smoking and the pain killers she was on, some of her ideas were more feasible than others. He wanted to surprise her with a completed draft when she woke up.

            Before J knew it, he heard someone knocking on his door. He looked up at a small unimpressive young woman with a bag over her head being escorted by Slappy. J nodded at the peculiar man who removed the hood from the girl. She looked furiously around before locking eyes with The Joker. All the blood left her face.

            J circled the girl, looking her up and down. The girl was just a stripper Harley had taken under her wing for reasons that eluded him. In his opinion there was nothing particularly interesting about the her. His Little Monster pretended that the girl was just a chew toy, but she seemed _almost_ fond of her. It was odd and he didn’t particularly like it.

            “Is Harley ok?” The girl asked urgently, “I haven’t seen her in a month, is she all right?” J was taken aback, the girl looked sincerely concerned.

            “Extremely bored- but fine. She was injured during a little game we were playing a few weeks ago and has been stuck in bed. Slappy’s been seeing to her.” He gestured to the mime next to the girl. The girl looked at the behemoth of a man next to her skeptically.

            “I want to see her.” She demanded, turning away from Slappy, as if she was in any position to demand anything.

            “What hours do you normally work?”

             “What? Umm…” the girl began looking confused by the turn of conversation, “well, during the week I’m at the club 8 PM till around 1 AM before I work the streets. I work my corner on the weekends but am usually at the club for 4 hours or something.” J nodded.

            “Well, congratulations. You have a new job. Until the cast is off you will be here keeping Harley entertained.”

            “That’s not up to me, sugar.” The girl laughed bitterly, “that’s for you and my pimp to decide.”

            “How much do you typically make working your corner?” He asked in a threatening tone.

            “I rake in about $500 a week.” She said pridefully.

            “Tell your pimp he’ll be getting $1,000 a week for you to keep Harley company. Week days a driver will pick you up at the club at 9 PM and return you there at 4 AM.” J announced with no room for disagreement.

            “I don’t know if my pimp will like that…” She responded uneasily. “He’ll be stuck with my baby.”

            “That was a statement of fact not an offer, little girl. Tell your pimp that The Joker said he’ll be getting $1,000 a week or he’ll get a visit from my friends and while I think their creativity is very amusing, I don’t think he’ll get the joke. Do you understand?” He said again, his eyes glinting dangerously.

            “Yessir.” She said, “now what do I got to keep her entertained?”

            “Smart girl.” J chuckled. “No price tag. Keep her laughing and keep her from reinjuring herself too dramatically.” J gestured at Slappy who produced a credit card and gave it to the girl. “If she wants something you don’t know how to get talk to Slappy. He will take care of it.”

            “What if she wants you?” She asked boldly.

            “Then you’re unlikely to be able to stop her.” J laughed.

           

* * *

 

 

            “I dunno Jemma, I think your party supplies might be a flop.” Harley chided turning side to side, poking at the overflow from her bra. The most expensive goodies from one of their many digital shopping sprees over the last weeks had finally arrived and she was having a little fashion show. The new corseted bustier and pantie sets were supposed to be a special something to celebrate her officially having full use of her arm again. She was going to surprise her man with them once they got back from her congratulatory heist.

            “The took three weeks to get here, they better have sent the right size.” Jemma spat, squinting at the label of the other lingerie. “Nope, they got it right. Didn’t know brands this fancy ran small,” she whistled.

              “It’s all custom shit, I didn’t have you measure my tits just for fun. It should all be right.” Harley frowned at her reflection while twisting this way and that, “I did just spend a month and a half flopped in bed eating frosting… Do I look like I’ve gained weight to you?”

            “Nope. Fuck knows how given that you seem to mostly survive on candy.” Jemma rolled her eyes, “I can’t even get rid of my damn baby weight and I’m dancing every night.”

            “Huh.” Harley shrugged, “well if I have to go through a growth spurt anywhere, I can live with it being my tits.” Jemma laughed in response.

            “I know right!” She pointed to her breasts, “I’m half tempted to get these done once Haley is done with them.”

            Harley forced herself to laugh. She liked Jemma well enough, but hearing her talk about her kid always made her want to slap her. Jemma had thought naming the thing after her was some kind of complement, but meeting ‘Haley’ had made her want to vomit. She’d met it (although she did her best not to call Jemma’s baby ‘it’ in front of her) a few times but had always declined to hold her. She didn’t want to touch that fragile little bundle, it was too disgustingly perfect. Even when Jemma had put Harley’s hand on her pregnant belly when the it had first kicked, she pulled away like she’d been burned.

            Harley went to remove the bustier and couldn’t help but be annoyed. She wanted to surprise Puddin’ with a show tonight now that her arm was back in commission. Obviously, she still would, but she would have to wear a different costume. She had quite a closet and would definitely have something she could wear that J would like. But, still, it was annoying.

            “It’s probably just PMS. I have a whole different lingerie wardrobe for work during that time of the month” Jemma waved her hand dismissively before returning to her stack of fashion magazines.

            “The joys of water retention,” Harley moaned flexing her fingers remembering how tight they felt when she put them on the other morning. Time was a slippery thing to Harley, sometimes she felt keenly aware of its passage and other times she would struggle to identify _when_ she was. She figured she was probably due soon but couldn’t really figure out how long it had been since her last period. Sometime around when she busted her arm.

            “At least then I won’t have to throw the new sets out.” Harley glanced at the clock. “I need to get ready for a job tonight.” Without a goodbye, Harley turned and skipped back to her closet and began suiting up for that night’s adventure.

           

* * *

 

            “Fuck!” Harley cried, slapping the counter while trying not to tense her thigh or let her flinches impact the neat rows of stitches on J’s non-dominant forearm over his grinning tattoo that she was working on.

            “Stay still, Little Monster.” J growled as wrapped gauze around her latest flesh wound.

            “I’m trying, you asshat.” She giggled before sighing loudly while tying up the last stitch on his arm. “I’m not gonna get to play on the ropes for another week.”

            “You should have thought of that before using your leg as a meat shield.”

            “Oh, gee. That never occurred to me.” She rolled her eyes dramatically, reaching for a role of gauze. “It’s been almost two months since I could really have fun and I’m _bored._ ”

            “Well you should have thought of that two months ago before you went and busted your arm.” He quipped back before poking the shiny new scar tissue on her bicep.

            “Shut up.” She groaned. “Why do I always manage to get hurt whenever I’m almost better?” She wined while taping the gauze over his wound.

            “Because your toys are either very sharp or they go boom.” He giggled making Harley laugh. He placed a large pink heart band aid over the end of the bandage on her leg to hold it in place.

            “You gonna kiss it and make it better?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him with a coy smile.

            “Now what exactly what would I be kissing?”

            “I’ll leave that to your discretion.” She laughed. J picked her up using his good arm and carried her from the bathroom counter into their bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him.

 

* * *

 

            J was starting to worry. He didn’t particularly like that new sensation that had arrived with his Jester, but he was starting to get used to it. Harley had been all fun and games for a couple days after her latest booboo, other than some hilarious bitching about it. It was nothing serious and she’d been back in action the next morning. Initially it was nice to have her injured in a way that kept things exciting, not in a way that required serious treatment or attention. She was the most beautiful when she was feral and her minor injuries always tore at her edges in a way that made him want to fuck her- hard.

            But she’d been tired the last couple days and had been feeling kind of sick. The goon who’d stabbed her probably hadn’t kept his knife to clean and it wouldn’t be surprising if it was infected. In retrospect, she should have started a round of antibiotics the night she got stabbed but that would have required planning and logical thinking (which really wasn’t either of their forte).

            “Slappy, did you get it yet?” He yelled out the door. The bizarre man ran up to the apartment and bowed deeply. Slappy then presented his boss with a prescription bottle full of doxycycline, a fist full of frozen mostly dead dandelions, vanilla frosting with extra sprinkles, and a what appeared to be the body of a baby doll that he’d sewn the head of a toy clown onto. J didn’t bother to comment on his choice of gifts for Harley and simply pointed behind him to the bedroom. “Go take care of her, I’ll be in my lab. I have a few new gasses I need to test before Saturday.”

            J stalked over to his lab and began to tinker with his various gasses, ignoring his guest for now. He knew there was no reason to be worried. Harley was barely scratched, he was just on edge because of how bad her last boo-boo was. Once she finished the course of antibiotics she’d be fine and they could go back to normal. Or whatever their version of normal was, he smiled.

            “My friend,” he purred while turning to a stranger tied to a gurney in his lab. “I want to thank you for participating in the scientific process. Not that you had a choice really, but we’re going to have so much fun!” He giggled while securing a gas mask over the terrified man’s face. The results were truly eye catching.

            Within a few days she seemed to be feeling better (or at least she was too bored to stay in bed and had announced she was feeling better). He’d noticed her looking a little green a few times, but she didn’t have a fever and high doses of antibiotics weren’t always pleasant. By the time she removed the stitches from his arm he’d forgotten all about it.

 

* * *

 

            Harley curled up in a ball in the bathroom thanking every lucky star and inexplicable guardian angel that J was off playing with some new special Joker Venom. Sure, they’d seen each other with colds and with quite a few boo-boos over the last two years but never with any sort of stomach bug. She could vaguely remember puking in front of him while tripping dick on mushrooms a time or two, but he’d been so high she doubted he’d been aware. Today he was sober and definitely would notice.

            Heaving into the toilet, she cursed biology. Stupid antibiotics pissing her stomach off. Stupid PMS making her stomach pissed off to begin with. Stupid leg for healing right as she got her stupid period. She stood and rinsed out her mouth before brushing her teeth.

            Of course, just when her leg healed enough for her to ride her man senseless, her period had to make her feel like shit. Missionary was fun but she missed doggy. It wasn’t so much the pain that kept her from ignoring her leg and taking the reins, but after bleeding through her bandaging twice while riding him and ruining their mattress- she decided it was easier to wait till she healed.

            She ducked under the counter to grab a clay mask and bubble bath ready to throw herself a pity party. While she was waiting for her bath to fill, she went to survey the damage to her PJ bottoms and was somewhat surprised to find herself blood free.

            “Great. If this is how bad the PMS is, I can’t wait for when I get the fucking thing.” She groaned while hitting her head against the wall.

            Relaxing into the bath, Harley applied her mask. As if puking like a freshman wannabe sorority sister during pledge week wasn’t bad enough, her skin was breaking out like she was a freshman in _high school._

            “Well cupcake, you might feel like shit but at least you don’t got cramps yet.” Lady chimed in with her thick Brooklyn accent.

            “Fuck off.” Harley groaned, “You are not finding the silver lining in this.” She hadn’t had a period this obnoxious for a long time. Since Harleen started birth control in high school, her periods had been fine. At least she had some illicit big-girl muscle relaxers instead of Tylenol for whenever the cramps set in.

            Three days of fatigue and vague nausea later her period still hadn’t shown up and Harleen was starting to be very vocal about her concerns. Not that she was going to listen to her, but still.

            “Don’t play stupid like you don’t remember medical school, Harley. You and I both know that something is wrong here. It sounds like some kind of hormonal imbalance; I’m worried about your estrogen and progesterone levels.”

            “Fuck off, Harleen.” Harley muttered, plugging her ears as if it could silence the voices inside of her head. She explained her situation to J with a few vague statements about PMS being a bitch and had blown him so he wouldn’t ask too many questions. She didn’t want to freak him out.

            “You’re being stupid. It’s probably just a negative reaction to the implant. Lots of people don’t react well to slow release birth control and it’s easy to fix, you dumb bitch. Just switch to a copper IUD and you'll be fine.” Harleen snapped.

            “I’m not agreeing with Harleen, because fuck her. But why not just take it out and move on with your damn life?” The Lady drawled.

            “That wasn’t what I was suggesting!” Harleen shrieked. “Go to a doctor. Get a prescription."

             Harley rolled over to look at her switch blade on her bedside table and wondered how hard it would be to remove herself. She could ask J to do it but then she would have to explain, and he’d be upset she hadn’t told him that she was sick. She didn’t have a good reason for not telling him. She wasn’t embarrassed or angry or didn’t trust him, she just felt badly about being such a burden the last two months.

             Normally she could keep up with his pranks and games but now she was holding him back.

             Maybe he’d get bored of her and not want to play with her anymore.

             She couldn’t lose her Puddin’.

             She wouldn't lose him.

            “Harleen, gonna need a little guidance here.” She said with gritted teeth. Sitting up, she picked up the knife and walked over to the bathroom and sterilized it and her arm. Somethings a girl just had to do for herself. “And no, I’m not going to the doctors so tell me how or I will do it without your help.” Harleen stammered and tried to stall for time but eventually began to speak.

            “Put on a glove and start feeling around the bicep for a bump.” Harleen said reluctantly.

            “Where?” Harley said in an exasperated tone while poking her arm.

            “Higher up, it should be between the heart tattoo and the scaring from the batarang.”

            “Not feeling it, princess.”

            “Listen to me! Higher up, closer to the scar.”

            “I’m telling you I don’t fucking feel it! It’s not there.” She snarled some minutes later, still palpitating her muscle.

            “It should be right where the scar tissue is-” Harleen snapped before abruptly going silent.

            “Harleen!” Harley yelled, irritate. “Fine, shut the fuck up for once why don’t you. Bitch.” She mumbled under her breath, continuing to feel the area for the implant. It had been a weird little lump she’d occasionally rubbed absent mindedly for the last year and a half. Now all she could feel was a dent where her latest scar decorated her skin- her thoughts screeched to a halt like a stupid record sound effect. All the blood drained from her face.

            “No.” She said, quickly grabbing the knife she’d sterilized. There was no point in palpitating it if she was right, she might as well search thoroughly.  She felt around desperately, looking for any trace of plastic. “No!” She said again, cutting deeper through her scar. “No, no, no, no!” She cried.

            There was blood everywhere. All over her hands, all over the sink. She was vaguely aware she was crying. Somehow, she had ended up on the floor and wasn’t entirely sure how she’d gotten there. When J had watched the doctor realign her fracture and stitch up her bicep. He told her there was all kinds of junk in the wound, weird chunks of plastic and some ultra-thin wire. The doctor had thrown them away before she’d looked at them.

            She should have insisted on seeing the shrapnel. Maybe that way should would have known the doctor removed what was left of her implant after Batsy was done with it.

             “We need to take a pregnancy test.” Lady finally spoke up in a small fragile voice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... Well? What do you think? Let me know what you think in the comments below and please don't kill me for cutting this off on a cliff hanger! See you next week :)


	9. Are No Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley looked over her reflection one last time, her blue and pink eyeshadow was perfect. So was her hair. And the diamond print dress her Puddin’ had gotten her. Her mask was intact even if she felt like she was going to fall the fuck apart.  
> The scavenger hunt was a stupid idea, but she couldn’t take looking at his face when he realized just what had been bothering her the last two weeks. They both liked games and jokes but this wasn’t even close to funny.  
> She had to get it over with. Tonight, after the finished at the club. After they had some fun with Monster T. After they blew off some steam on Gotham. After they roped Batsy into their date night. After she got back at Batsy for ruining her implant and putting her in this position. Once they had a little fun and returned to their hideout, she would give J the first clue. He needed to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday :) Have you forgiven me for the cliff hanger last week? This one starts off right where the last left off. Hopefully it's worth the wait.   
> I'm traveling for the next month and won't have much access to wifi but I will still be doing my best to post on Saturdays. As a bit of a preemptive peace offering, I've decided to post chapter 10 on Wednesday or Thursday (depending on Wifi access) and will hopefully still be able to get chapter 11 posted next Saturday like normal.   
> Don't be surprised if you get a chapter a day early or a day late from me for the remaining couple chapters. I finished editing and uploading the story yesterday (what the hell am I going to do with my free time now?!) so I promise, promise, promise that this work hasn't been abandoned or forgotten! 
> 
> Songs: Crazy in Love (50 Shades of Grey Remix)- Beyonce; Oh Lord- In this Moment

            J was whistling to himself as he cleaned up his lab. His latest creation was a true gem he couldn’t wait to share with Harley. As soon as the more volatile and expensive goodies were away, he’d set some goons to finish cleaning and take care of the bodies. His little friends were going to have the most amusing reactions to his new and improved Joker Venom. His lab rats hadn’t just laughed themselves to death, their skin had turned an appalling white with bright red lips that had stretched into a smile so wide the flesh of their cheeks had ripped open until they were literally grinning ear to ear. It was beautiful.

            “Harley!” He singsonged, wandering into their suite. “Come see daddy’s latest invention!” He looked around their bedroom finding no trace of her. She wasn’t in their closest or reading in one of the few romance novels she hadn’t finished in one of their overstuffed chairs.

            “Harley?” He asked, unsure where his Little Monster had wandered off to. He knew she wasn’t playing on the silks, he had an underling watching them ready to alert him if she attempted that yet. It was hilarious how eager she was to play again no matter how many times the doctor made it clear her arm would end up snapping like a damn toothpick. Somehow that never seemed to be a sufficient deterrent for her. Not that he could talk… he wasn’t sure how many times Harley had to physically restrain him from reinjuring himself after a particularly bad boo-boo. But it was a lot.

            He was about to wander down to their playroom and shooting range (she had been very excited once her arm started tolerating larger toys) when he heard soft sobbing from the bathroom. Harley very seldom cried. He’d only seen or heard her it a handful of times in their two years together.

            J stalked over to the bathroom. Surprise wasn’t the right word for his reaction, but it was a close cousin. Panic, maybe. Shock, definitely. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but something had obviously gone wrong. Harley was curled up on the floor in a fetal position in a small pool of blood. It wasn’t a worrying or even an amusing amount of blood, just enough to make him raise a naked eyebrow.

            “Harley?” He asked kneeling down next to her, trying to disguise the concern in his voice. Harley was babbling to her voices in hushed tones. He couldn’t tell if she was talking to Harleen or the other one whose name he’d never learned. She didn’t seem to notice that he was there and jolted in shock when he grabbed her arm. She twisted suddenly and held a knife against his throat.

            “Are we having some fun tonight?” He asked with a smirk, raising his hands by his head, enjoying his Little Monster’s violent reflexes.

            “Puddin’?” She asked with wide eyes without dropping the knife from his throat.

            “The one and only.” He purred, taking the knife by the blade from her and tossing it somewhere over his shoulder. The blade cut into his palm and he internally noted that he would have to stitch that up later when he wasn’t so preoccupied with Daddy’s Little Monster.

            The only thing he could think of that might have upset her recently was that she had been unable to participate in their usual games. It had bothered her at the time, but she was back at the club and they had already played two pranks of Gotham just this week. Why would being unable to play with the other children bother her now? J shrugged to himself, Harley often didn’t make sense to him.

            “You’ll be able to play soon, Little Monster.” He said, hoping he’d guessed correctly. “We’ll get back at Batsy soon and we can show all of Gotham just whose boss.” Harley sniffled and wiped her eyes. Her eyes remained downcast and she said nothing. J took her chin and forced her to look at him, her eyes had something akin to fear in them. It was odd to see. He didn’t think he’d seen her truly afraid since she was still Dr. Quinzelle.

            “I want to kill them.” She finally said with more anger in her voice than he’d ever heard before.

            “Who, baby?” He purred.

            “Batsy. And the doctor.” She growled, furious. J raised a naked eyebrow.

            “You can have the doctor, baby girl. Slappy and Panda-Man can pick him up right now if you want. But we can’t kill Batsy. He’s too much fun alive.” He explained, trying to ignore the jolt of anger when she suggested killing the Bat.

            “You’ll be all better soon,” J growled, pushing her hair behind her ear. “Everything will go back to normal.” Harley flinched away from him when he said the word normal. Suddenly she threw her arms around his neck and clung on to him. J stiffened in confusion before wrapping his arms around her waist and shifting to sit on the cold hard marble and pulled her into his lap.

            “We can go back to playing any pranks we want, all the heists and games you can dream of. No one can stop us. We’ll kill anyone that tries.” He purred dangerously into her ear.

            Eventually Harley’s racing heart slowed and her cries tapered off. J had hoped that meant she would come back to him and explain what the fuck was going on. Instead, she went limp and still in his arms. When he looked down at her, her eyes were completely blank. Harley wasn’t talking to her voices anymore, although she might have been listening to them.

           J shifted her in his arms and looked at her boo-boo. It was a long thin line up the length of her upper bicep that traced along her scar and several inches below it. The cut wasn’t very deep and didn’t look like it needed stitches but it almost looked like she’d scratched at it with her finger nails and had been digging around in her boo-boo. He had no idea why she would have done that but figured she’d eventually tell him once she came back from where ever her mind had wandered. He shifted he around awkwardly in his lap to reach their first aid kit. Harley was still limp and far away when he finished patching her up, complete with a glittery Band-Aid. J slid her off his lap and picked up his dissociated monster. He laid her down on the bed with him, stroking her hair and continuing to whisper dangerous promises in her ear.

            “Come back to me Little Monster,” he growled into her hair, “I need you.” After several long minutes of silence Harley shifted in his arms and she looked up at him.

            “Don’t leave me.” She said in a weak and empty voice.

            “Why would I do that?” J asked, genuinely surprised.

            “Just… no matter what happens. Don’t leave me.” She choked out, her eyes wide and haunted. She looked fragile, a word he never associated with Harley. Sometimes Harleen had looked delicate but his Harley was hard and dangerous. She was his vicious Little Monster.

            “Of course, I won’t.” He growled. “You’re mine, Harley Quinn. No one will take you away from me. Don’t forget it.”

   

* * *

        

            “Do you have your toys of choice?” J asked, waiting for her to emerge from their closet. He’d woken up to Harley trying sneak back into their bedroom several hours ago. Hoping to figure out what was going on, he’d feigned sleep. Unfortunately, no clues presented themselves. She simply went into their closet, changed back into pajamas, and curled up next to him. J pulled her into his arms and tried to fall back asleep for a few more hours. He didn’t ask where she went, and she didn’t tell him, but wherever she’d gone it had done her good. Harley was almost back to normal. But he couldn’t forget the empty look in her eyes. He didn’t know which ghost was haunting her or what was scaring her the night before, but he needed to figure what was wrong.

            “Just a second! Need to grab my… my uh, my mallet!” Harley yelled back in a slightly too high-pitched voice. After a few minutes she popped out of the closest and struck a pose holding her oversized hammer. She was wearing bright red leather bomber jacket with its sleeves rolled up to her elbows, a black cat suit, and black stiletto boots. Her arms were decorated with watches, most of them gold and all of them expensive. They all had belonged to men that she and J had played their game with on various date nights.

            “I’m ready,” she sing-songed with a big smile on her face. There was some kind of fire in her eyes he wasn’t familiar with, but she looked half ready to burn down Gotham. Her fear the night before transformed into anger. It was beautiful. And distracting.

            “That you are,” he purred, pulling her close and kissing her deeply, grateful his Monster was back.

            “See something you like?” She joked, resting her head on his chest.

            “Several things.” He growled.

            “What is our activity of the night?” She asked, looking up at him with those big, vicious eyes.

            “Well I was thinking we need to stop by the club, maybe make a new friend. And then I was thinking you, I, and a concerning number of explosives could go on a date?” Her responding squeal was almost deafening. “I think she likes it,” he growled with a chuckle.

            “It’s perfect, Puddin’.” She smiled. “I need to take care of one thing at the club real quick,” she shuffled nervously with her purse, catching his eye. “Then I’m all yours.”

            “I though you already were?” He asked, quirking a naked brow at her.

            “You know it.” She said seriously.

 

* * *

           

            Harley hid herself in the stripper’s bathroom at the club and opened her purse. It hadn’t been easy to sneak out to buy the test while J slept, but she’d done it. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t told him yet but kept telling herself that there was nothing to worry him about _yet_. He didn’t need to know _yet_. There wasn’t anything to tell him _yet._

            “Harley, you need to stop being an idiot.” Harleen said gently, “you’ve been unprotected for almost two months and you are… very sexually active.”

            “What she means to say is that you two fuck like bunnies and it’s a fucking miracle if hasn’t put a bun in there yet.” The Lady scoffed.

            “Shut up.” Harley said in a harsh whisper while holding the stick underneath herself and trying to ignore the bizarreness of talking to voices in her head while taking the most significant piss of her life. She wrapped the test in a paper towel and shoved into her purse. She put on her best, _what the fuck do you want_ face and stalked back to her office.

            She sat oddly calmly behind her desk waiting for the test to tell her if she’d dodged a bullet or was completely fucked. Absently, she set a timer for when she was going to check the test again and rested her head on the table.

            A baby. What the fuck would she do with a baby? _If_ she was pregnant, she obviously wouldn’t have it. Her life was way too fucking dangerous to be pregnant let alone hauling around a brat. It’s not like she could bring it on pranks or to the club. How the hell would she even keep it alive? Sometimes it seemed like she could barely keep herself alive. It would probably end up being raised by Slappy if it survived. More likely, one of their many enemies would kill it if J didn’t get annoyed and kill it first. J wouldn’t even want a baby; he didn’t like people other than her. He just wanted her. Their own private world that existed only for them, no one else. A baby would ruin everything.

            “I don’t even like kids.” Harley told herself, trying to ignore the churning sensation in her stomach.

            “Keep telling yourself that, princes.” The Lady said sarcastically.

            “Fuck off, I can’t deal with you right now.”

            “Just saying, you don’t like  _other_ people's babies. You can pretend all you like but I live in ya head and you, girly-girl, are jealous of Jemma. If ya gonna lie to yourself at least tell more interesting lies.” The Lady laughed.

            “Don’t encourage her!” Harleen snapped, “Harley, there is no happy ending here that involves you, Mr. Joker, and a baby. You know that.”

            “I know!” Shouted Harley, hitting her head against the table. “I don’t want it! We don’t even know that I’m pregnant so wait-” she checked her cellphone timer, “three more minutes for fucks sake.”

            “I’m not sayin’ it’s a good idea, baby girl, but I am sayin’ don’t bother lying to ya self ‘bout it. Ya want it- ya can’t have it- but ya want it.” The Lady drawled as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

            “Please. Just shut up.” Harley mumbled against the hard wood of her desk trying to ignore the weird twinge she felt when she thought of a baby that was equal parts her and her Puddin’. A little prince or princess for their empire. The timer went off and Harley removed the test from her bag.

            All she could do was laugh.

            She laughed until her ribs hurt.

            She laughed until her eyes watered.

            She laughed until she was red in the face.

            She laughed until she was gasping for air.

            She laughed until she was breathless and curled over her desk in silent shock.

            She was startled out of her hysterical daze some time later by a loud beep from her phone. It was a text from her Puddin’. He was five minutes away and had a fresh piece of meat for them to play with. Harley forced herself back to a blank face and walked over to a mirror to fix her make up.

            Five minutes. What was going to say? Tell him what, she scoffed, that when she got hurt the doctor accidentally pulled out her implant and now she was knocked up?

            Four minutes. What was there even to say? That some collection of cells was about to fuck everything up? She looked down at her body. Her tits were bigger and maybe she looked a little bloated, but she didn’t _look_ pregnant.

            Three minutes. She didn’t even have a bump. Just some little bump-ito, a bump-ette, a bump-lette. A stupid fucking bumplet invisible to everyone but herself. A stupid fucking Bumplet that was about to ruin everything.

            Two minutes. She could just abort it and never tell J. Her stomach lurched. She couldn’t do that. If he ever found out he’d be… well, she wasn’t sure what he’d be. It wouldn’t be pretty. She promised to trust him, fucking live for him, to go back on that would be _bad._ She needed to tell him first. She would tell him, and then _they_ would get rid of the Bumplet.

            One minute. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her racing heart. She needed to focus. She was still in control. She still had her Puddin’. Nothing else mattered. They would go out tonight and she would kill whoever got in their way until her voices were silent it was just her and her Puddin’. As long as she had her Puddin’ nothing mattered.

            “I come bearing gifts,” J said as he opened the door smirking with a smug looking man standing behind him. “I have an ambassador from the Russian mob for us who had some clever ideas about a potential rather _personal_ business engagement with you. I thought we might discuss this idea with our new Muscovite friend before heading out for date night.” J leered.

            Harley plastered a smile on her face. Ever since Slater, they’d found someone to toy with before they went out on the town. She walked around the desk with a sexy sway to her hips. This she was good at. Her mate had gone out hunting and they were going to play with their food before they ate. She flicked her hair over her shoulder, feeling for where she’d stashed a small knife in her pigtails.

            “Is that right? Do I have a new boyfriend?” She squealed with a sickening smile on her face. “Oh, that’s a lovely watch you have there, big boy.” It will look even better on me once I take it off your corpse, she giggled in her head.

            She’d tell him about their little Bumplet problem. Just not tonight.

* * *

 

            J looked down at Harley with skeptical concern. She was sleeping soundly on his chest, her breasts pressed to his side and her leg wrapped over his waist. The arm that she’d slung across his torso still sported her watches, including a new one from their latest mobster. Harley was beautiful in her deadly madness tonight. He loved watching her toy with the stupid little men of Gotham. They always thought she was theirs right before she proved them wrong. It was perfection. And, good god, the sex after was always fantastic.

            He would have thought everything was back to normal with his Little Monster if he hadn’t been watching so closely. Her eyes had been slightly red when he entered her office even though she wasn’t high. He figured she had been crying but then she played with their toy so beautifully he’d completely forgotten.

            She’d been chatting with her voices about something as they raced around Gotham, which wasn’t exactly out of character. But it seemed like they disagreed about something, though he wasn’t sure what. It wasn’t until she screamed at him for almost wrecking their car while getting chased by the cops that he wondered just what was wrong with the Queen of Gotham. That was as fucking out of character as anything else. His normally fearless monster didn’t flinch from danger and she was well aware that almost getting in car wrecks was pretty much an inevitable part of letting him drive. She’d never minded his reckless driving before. Hell, she often encouraged it by sucking him off as they cruised around Gotham.

            Something was wrong and she wasn’t going to tell him without some encouragement.

 

* * *

 

            “Miss. Quinn, the buyer is here.” A goon said, keeping his head down.

            “Good boy.” She responded, pulling on her long pink leather duster. “Start loading up the trucks. Have the other boys stand around and look scary. Just for funsies.” Harley giggled. She didn’t normally get involved with deals, but this was Jemma’s pimp and it was his last deal before their agreement ended. She planned on scaring him enough that he would behave. Besides, she needed something to distract herself from the impossibly shitty week she’d been having.

            Ten minutes later, she walked to the garage and sat atop her Pudidn’s bright purple sports car to observe the transaction. Jemma’s pimp was obviously agitated. He was always a bit volatile but tonight he seemed a bit more off than usual. Goody.

            "Well?” She asked lazily.

            “I got the money.” He said in a sharp voice, barely sparing her a glance. His inattention irked Harley. She was the boss. His Queen.

            “Frost?” Harley said with a smile on her face, her breath fogging up in the icy air in front of her. The suited man walked quickly to her side trying to disguise how cold he was.

            “Yes Miss Quinn?” He asked, already knowing what his command would be.

            “Teach him some manners.” Harley giggled. She could have hit him herself, but it was much more fun to watch him realize the entire room of men would do as she said. She had a good arm on her, but not as good as the ten men in the rest of the room combined.

            “Yes, Miss Quinn.” Frost said curtly before punching the man in the face hard enough to break his nose.

            “Thank you, Frost.” She said in a sweet voice. “Now, where were we, Sweetie?”

            “I have the money for you Miss. Quinn.” The man responded while clutching his heavily bleeding nose. Harley giggled.

            “Well why didn’t you just say so silly?” She popped up from the car. “Lead the way, Abbie!” She couldn’t help but giggle at the way Absalom’s face contorted at his nickname. He staggered back to the car he’d used to transport the payment. It was some shitty sedan with faux wood paneling and more duct tape than glass. Harley snorted, some coke dealer he was.

            She stopped smirking once he opened the trunk. Nested amongst duffel bags of one-hundred-dollar bills was a baby. Not just any baby, Jemma’s baby. Dressed only in a diaper. In five-degree weather.

            “What is that?” she asked in a hollow voice.

            The man must have seen the change in her expression. The shift from her capricious amusement to emptiness. The lack of laughter in her voice. Everyone knew that Mr. J’s bitch was at least as crazy as him but she was at her most scary once she stopped laughing.

            “I- that’s- uh...” he began to stammer.

            “Yes?” Harley said in a dead tone. Her men behind her looked at each other nervously. They were used to her giggles and laughter in the most fucked up of scenarios. Several of the men had met her when she was giggling about gouging one of their friends’ eyes out. Having her serious was terrifying.

            “Jemma wouldn’t go to work. The baby sitter couldn’t get here cause’ of the snow and she wouldn’t go. And well- I’m a business man. You understand, you have a business too. So I, uh.” Harley didn’t bother to ask one of the other men this time. She slapped him across the face with the full weight of her body sending him to the ground.

            “Keep going.” She spat, enjoying the way her fake nails had cut stripes into his cheek.

            “Well, uh. See she wouldn’t get on her corner and I can’t have her eating for free. So, um, I took the kid and told her she could have her back once she made her due. I took the brat, so she didn’t have no excuse and-”

            Harley turned and started to walk away before holding out her hand. The man on the ground was stupid enough to look relieved for a moment before Slappy came running to her side with a baseball bat.

            “Thank you for joining us tonight gentlemen.” Harley said, laughing slightly hysterically while slinging the bat over her shoulder, “me and my friend need a little alone time.” The goons quickly shuffled out of the garage leaving Harley with the bleeding dealer. She turned around slowly and raised the bat.

            She wasn’t sure how long it took. But by the time she was done the man was a pile of unrecognizable flesh. She wasn’t sure how long she would have kept going if she hadn’t been interrupted by the deafening cries of Jemma’s baby.

            Harley stood over the trunk looking critically down at the baby. It was bigger than last time she saw it. It had pushed itself into a sitting position and was staring at her. Harley froze. She never liked babies. They were loud and messy and needy and boring. They were too pure and stupid. She could infect it just with her dirty hands. Leave her alone with one for ten minutes and it witnesses a murder.

            Harleen had done rotations in birth and delivery and had spent time around infants in and out of the NICU. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know how to hold one or didn’t know that the baby’s uncontrollable shaking and slight bluish color was a problem. She just didn’t want to touch it.

            Stealing herself, Harley picked up the baby and held it like she would a feral cat. Not so bad. She could do this. Undoing her coat with one hand, Harley pressed the baby to her chest and closed the jacket as best she could over it.

            “Fuck you’re cold.” Harley complained. She slammed the trunk closed and jumped into the front seat of the car and turned the heat on full blast. The baby’s cried slowly turned to whimpers before stopping all together.

            “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Harley laughed. What kind of fucked up creature could derive comfort from _her_. Other than her Puddin’, everyone was potential prey and they knew it. They were disposable. That she could get bored and kill them. She’d done some truly disgusting things that made her giggle.

            “What a stupid little beast you are.” She mumbled at the baby. She opened her jacket and stared down at it. She supposed it was cute. It had big eyes and dark hair that promised to grow into a beautiful curly mop like her mom's. It smiled up at her and pulled at her pink pigtail. She supposed she shouldn’t call the baby ‘it’ but the idea of calling it by its name or even just ‘her’ hurt in an unfamiliar and confusing way she didn’t want to stop to consider. It was easier for the baby to be an ‘it.’

            “What the fuck am I going to do with you?” Harley asked, her brow creasing. She needed to return it to Jemma. But what would Jemma do? Her dead pimp’s friends might come after her and blame her for her pimp’s death. They would leave her screaming and begging to die before they finally killed her.

            Jemma could find another pimp who would offer protection. But what the fuck kind of pimp would let her keep her baby around? From her time at the club she knew most of the men Jemma could end up belonging to and they wouldn’t second guess holding the baby hostage to make her work. Or just killing it when it got too annoying.

            Something about that idea made Harley feel something close to panic. The baby burrowed her head in Harley’s neck and Harley’s hand unconsciously started stroking her stupidly soft hair. She wouldn’t let some fucker kill it.

            Jemma knew better than to bring a baby into their world. It was selfish and fucked up and stupid beyond belief, but she’d done it. This corner of the underworld was no place for a baby. People like them didn’t get babies. Harley tried to ignore that her eyes were prickling and the painful jolt of jealousy that ran though her veins.

            Before she could stop herself, she imagined what it would be like to be holding her and Puddin’s Bumplet instead of Jemma’s brat. In her mind she saw her Puddin’s tattooed hand resting on her swollen stomach while the two of them reclined together in their private world. Him whispering sweet, dangerous promises to their Bumplet while he thought she was asleep. The two of them holding a little pale baby with her Puddin’s unruly green hair looking back up at them with her blue eyes and his smile. Their perfect little evil bundle.

            Once the tears came there was no stopping them. She wouldn’t trade her life with J for anything but imagining a world where she was Harleen and he was Jack, Joe, or whatever the fuck he was before he was Joker was intoxicating. A world where instead of crying in a shitty stolen car covered in the owner’s blood, she was in a shitty car that she and pudding were scraping together to pay for with a little car seat in the back surrounded by toys. It was a drug. More addictive than any other substance she’d dabbled in and more dangerous than any of the pranks she’d pulled in the last two years.

            When she opened her eyes, the baby was asleep. Harley knew she needed to get Jemma out of Gotham. Far away. Somewhere she had a shot in hell of getting out of this life. She needed to get a coke free apartment to herself, get her GED, get a normal fucking job with a 401K, and get a boring boyfriend with a stupid nine to five job. Harley took off her jacket and created a nest in the passenger seat and placed the baby in it. She pulled out of the garage at a painfully slow speed (but not before backing over the pimp’s body several times). She needed to find Jemma. She’d give her the car and the cash and tell her to run.

 

* * *

  

            Harley was sitting on the roof of their hideout trying not to cry. She lit a cigarette with shaking hands, trying and failing to use her lighter. Eventually she managed to get it going but as she brought it to her lips she froze.

            “You know that’s no good for the Bumplet.” Harleen said in a sad voice.

            “It’s not as if I’m keeping it.” Harley shrugged, bringing it to her lips.

            “Still.” Harleen said quietly.

            “It doesn’t matter! I can’t have it. You know that. What the fuck would I do with a Bumplet? I would probably end up killing it if J didn’t. If it somehow survived, just imagine how fucked up it would be!” She said in a firm whisper.

            “I know.” Harleen agreed in a very small voice.

            “Puddin’ wouldn’t even want it.”

            “True.”

            “Even in some alternate fucked up universe where he did, I still shouldn’t keep it. It would ruin everything. Everything.” Harley said angrily, putting the cigarette between her lips. She didn’t inhale, she just froze and felt a few tears escape and trickle down her cheeks.

            “It would.” The Lady said in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. Harley let the cigarette fall from her lips and down the several stories on to the driveway to their hideout. In a surge of anger, she took the box and threw it and the lighter as far as she could.

            “What did Mr. Marlbro do to earn your wrath?” J chuckled from the utility access door that led to the roof top. Harley quickly wiped away her tears and turned to face him.

            “Sneaking up on me?” She tried to laugh.

 

* * *

 

            J cocked his head to the side, attempting to read his girl. Frost had told him about what had happened in the garage and that Harley had seemed strangely upset about it. He couldn’t begin to understand why she gave a shit about some boring dancer and her drooling baby, but he could see that she was troubled. Her mascara was running, and it was all over her coat sleeve. She was trying to hide that she was crying.

            “What happened with the girl?” He asked, hoping to figure out what had her so upset.

            “Jemma,” she said, pointlessly reminding him for the thousandth time that she had a name.

            “What happened with Jemma?” J said, unsure how to proceed. He didn’t do friends and wasn’t clear on the rules of engagement.

            “Oh, you know.” She said, waving her hand. Her smile wavered and she sniffled before she began to tear up. “I gave her his car and the cash and told her to get the fuck out of dodge before any of her old pimps friends could pay her a visit.”

            “Did you?” J was kind of angry about the money but couldn’t bring himself to be mad at her at the moment. Harley launched herself at him and hugged him tight. It was still strange, even two years into their relationship, that someone sought him out for comfort. It didn’t make any sense but he didn’t mind it for the moment. Confusion was funny.

            “I’ll get a heist together and make up the lost income this weekend.” She said miserably in to his jacket.

            “Make sure you get yourself something shiny to turn that frown upside down.” He chuckled hoping to lighten her mood. He looked down, expecting to see her looking back up at him with her feral grin- but she wouldn’t look at him.

            “Harley?” He asked, griping her chin to force her to look up at him. “What’s going on?”

            “I…” she began before biting her lip and looking away, “don’t get mad until I finish explaining. Ok?” She said before pausing again.

            He couldn’t imagine what else she could be so nervous about. She just gave a stripper a quarter million without talking to him first. J would have been worried she was cheating if he didn’t know better. She looked like she was about to say something when the door to the roof top burst open and a group of their goons emerged to chain smoke and talk shit or whatever it was they did on their breaks.

            “Damn it,” J cursed. Harley looked almost relieved to have been interrupted and took him by the hand.

            “The Jemma thing is really bumming me out Puddin’,” Harley said in a sad but sassy voice. “Wanna help me feel better?”

* * *

 

            Only later did it occur to J to wonder just what Harley would have said if she hadn’t been interrupted by their employees. Looking down at her in her sleep, she looked like her normal self. But something was off.

            Part of him felt angry that she was keeping secrets. He was supposed to know everything about her, damnit. She promised. A larger part felt sad. She said she loved him about ten times a day, if she loved him why wouldn’t she be honest?

            “I love you,” he mumbled into her hair, pulling her tighter against him. If something was too big for her to tell him, it must be bad.

 

* * *

 

            “You’re a coward.” Harley said to herself as she shoved the first clue into her purse. She couldn’t even tell her Puddin’ face to face that he’d knocked her up. She had to go and create a stupid scavenger hunt in the hopes that he’d find her way of telling him funny enough that he wouldn’t be furious. It was almost appallingly childish, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the two words she should have told him as soon as she found out.

            “Ya words not mine, but I agree.” The Lady chimed in. “But hey, who am I ta judge? I’m just a figment of ya’ fucked-up imagination.”

            “Auditory hallucinations aren’t imaginary,-” Harleen began rambling in full teacher’s pet mode, regurgitating bits of information from various textbooks and papers she’d read. Harley was glad to have the voices rumbling in the background talking about something she didn’t care about. It distracted her. Almost made her forget what she needed to do tonight.

            Harley looked over her reflection one last time, her blue and pink eyeshadow was perfect. So was her hair. And the diamond print dress her Puddin’ had gotten her. Her mask was intact even if she felt like she was going to fall the fuck apart.

            The scavenger hunt was a stupid idea, but she couldn’t take looking at his face when he realized just what had been bothering her the last two weeks. They both liked games and jokes but this wasn’t even close to funny. He’d be all the way across Gotham in the building they’d stashed The Reaper in where Batman had thrown the fateful batarang that ruined everything before he suspected anything. She’d be far away in their hideout when he walked into the club apartment and figured it out.

            He was being stunningly patient. If Harleen had still been in control, she would have thrown a damn party. She expected that restraint to vaporize as soon as he saw the final clue. He’d lose his shit, she’d lose her shit, they’d both end up yelling at their respective voices, probably end up doing some random stranger serious bodily harm, and then they’d have a big kid conversation. Eventually. Tracing a hand over her belly she knew they needed to have that conversation sooner rather than later. She wasn’t sure how far along she was but they needed to take care of this now before anyone else noticed.

            Part of her wanted to cry. The Bumplet had been her little lie to herself. A little lie, a little bump that promised a whole other future that she would never have. She’d been procrastinating just to have a little more time with her lie. But she needed to put her big girl panties on and say goodbye. She wasn’t an idiot. There was no happy ending that involved their Bumplet.

            Tonight, after the finished at the club. After they had some fun with Monster T. After they blew off some steam on Gotham. After they roped Batsy into their date night. After she got back at Batsy for ruining her implant and putting her in this position. Once they had a little fun and returned to their hideout, she would give J the first clue. He needed to know.

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you think? Let me know what you think in the comments below. Your comments mean the world to me, especially on these difficult chapters (chapter 8-11 have been massive pains in my ass and writing chapter 10 was an emotional roller coaster that I would rate 1/10, would not recommend to a friend).


	10. Unless You Share With Everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stared at himself in the mirror. His eyeliner was everywhere. His face looked contorted and wrong. There was a marker on the floor, who knew from when or why it was there, and without thinking he drew a smile onto his face. That was better. After all, what kind of Joker wouldn’t have a grin for the crowd? Joker moved methodically, as if he was in a trance. At some point, Joker wasn’t sure when, he’d surrounded himself in a dangerous nest of weapons and trinkets from their adventures on the floor. Concentric circles of knives, guns, empty bottles of liquor, clothes, roses. One hand spray painted “HAHA” over and over and over again while the other gripped a bottle of some brownish liquor. It didn’t matter what it was, just that he drank it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, here is the second half of the chapter. I don't have a whole lot to say other than to give you a heads up on this chapter. It is a really (really, really) rough one. I updated my first authors note to include all potential trigger warnings. Please message me or comment bellow if you think there are any other trigger warnings that I didn't include that you would like to do- as always be good to yourself and know that happier chapters are coming.
> 
> Songs: High For This- The Weekend, Big Bad Wolf- In this Moment; Nothing to No One; Gin Wigmore

            Joker cackled, holding the still hot barrel of his gun to his temple before lowering it to the floor. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying there. He’d torn Arkham apart and all but destroyed the local jails searching for Harley. He’d looked everywhere the bat normally brought her.

            He should have swam after her.

            He should have turned and flipped the fucking car before it hit the water.

He should have burned Gotham to the ground years ago rather than let it take his girl.

            “That’s the fifth of the night.” Frost said in an empty yet somehow concerned voice, gesturing to a henchman to take away the body of the man Joker had just shot. Frost absently fingered his bullet proof vest, glad he’d been wearing it when he told Joker Harley wasn’t in any of the local prisons unlike the five dead underlings who’d delivered similar news that night.

            “The night is still young.” Joker laughed in a haunting parody of a chuckle, without sitting up. Anything else he might have said was cut off by the loud crackling of Frost’s radio.

            “Homebase, homebase, homebase. This is dive team, do you copy? Over.” An unfamiliar female voice said through the radio. J tried to conceal his anxiety and vague need to vomit as they waited for the dive team to relate their findings. His girl couldn’t be dead. She had to be alive.

            “Copy. Go for homebase. Over”

            “Grid search complete. Negative on cadaver. Positive on personal belongings. Standby for orders. Over.”

            J would have collapsed if he hadn’t already been on the floor. Negative on cadaver. Her body wasn’t there. Whatever happened between the time he decided that date night was always improved by playing hide and seek with Harley and Batman, finding out she couldn't swim, and crawling out of the river- Harley hadn’t drowned. She wasn’t dead. His girl was alive. Fuck knows where she was, but she was alive. He closed his eyes tight, unsure what the foreign burning sensation in them was. Probably just irritation from his impromptu swim. What else could it be?

            “Good work dive team.” Frost paused to clear his throat and sit down before continuing with no small amount of relief in his voice, “go for retrieval of personal effects. Over.”

            “Where is she, Frost?” Joker asked in a dangerous voice.

            “I don’t know boss.” Frost sighed, shaking his head sadly. “But she isn’t at the bottom of the river and that’s what matters most.”

            “As if Batman could kill her,” J growled as if he hadn’t been terrified of that very thing since Harley had gone missing.

            “Yes, Boss.” Frost paused, “I’ve made outreach to a few old friends to see if they’ve heard anything from the feds. They should be getting back to me by the end of the day.” 

            Joker didn’t bother to respond and just continued to stare at the ceiling of his office listlessly. She wasn’t at the bottom of the river. She wasn’t dead. They’d know where she was any time now. Then he just needed to bust her out. He was good at that. He liked that.

            Time both seemed to crawl and go by in flashes. It felt like it took seconds to tear apart the jails. He could have sworn it only took minutes to go through Arkham with a fine-tooth comb. But it felt like it took years to find out if Harley was in the bottom of the river and days for them to bring whatever scraps of her the divers could find.

            The divers presented him with a duffel bag. Part of him wanted to kill them for treating the Queen’s things with such disregard but was too distracted by the contents of the bag. Her stilettos were in there. How she fought and danced in heals that narrow and tall made no sense to him. It seemed they'd finally had met their match and had snapped in the crash.

            There was an earring from a set he’d given her two years ago. He’d have to replace them before he broke her out. He wasn’t sure if he’d if he'd killed the artist. The jeweler had been alive a few months ago, if nothing else, when she’d made his second anniversary gift for Harley. It had been a delightfully expensive choker that read ‘Puddin’ in big gold letters. She loved that one.

           There was the kind of knife she typically strapped to her inner thigh. She had a whole collection of them, and they were all almost as arousing as her collection of lingerie. Of course, she’d been ready to slice Batman a new smile, no matter that she was under water and unable to swim. That’s why she was the Queen.

            There was her purse. It smelled like the river, deasil, and very faintly of her. Some expensive little leather thing she’d stolen on one of her many shopping sprees. She’d always been so good at those, even before Slappy had taught her a thing or two.

            Her guns were in the purse. He’d have Frost see if they could be salvaged. Those had been custom made for her first heist all that time ago. She was glorious, breaking into the art museum for him. It had only been her second major misadventure and the results spoke for themselves. That had been a very good night.

            There was a handful of soggy sticks of gum doing their best to fuse with a tube of lipstick in the bottom of her purse. As always. She seemed to perpetually be blowing bubbles and popping her gum at people. He pulled the top off her lipstick and stared at it blankly. It was such a perfect color. Like blood. It made her look feral.

            Tucked into a side pocket of her purse was a piece of cardstock. J pulled his hand away sharply, surprised by how deeply the side of what appeared to be a tarot card embedded itself in his flesh. What the fuck was she doing carrying around one of The Reaper’s toys? He didn’t know anything about tarot, but he couldn’t see why Harley would carry around this particular picture. He flipped it over in his hands hoping to find what caught her eye. Three or four words had been written on it in her red lipstick, but it had been badly smudged in the crash. The only words that could be read were “let’s” and “game.” He thought he saw the word “play” somewhere between the two, but it was hard to tell.

            Joker was half tempted to throw the card and see how far he could sink it in to Frost’s skull. But, he conceded, he needed Frost to update him on what his little birds were saying about Harley’s location. He had nothing to do but lie there and be furiously empty until he found out more. If his Little Monster had wanted to play a game, he would do his best to find out what that game was.

 

* * *

 

 

            Joker gripped the searing wheel of his car until his knuckles ached. He’d searched The Reaper’s apartment and torn the Wearhouse they’d stashed him in apart. He couldn’t figure out for the life of him how the hell Harley had gotten those cards but the cryptic clues she’d left behind weren't funny. He definitively did not like this game.

            In the empty apartment he found a present wrapped in green and purple paper. There was another tarot card on top that she’d written ‘secrets, secrets,’ in red lipstick. Inside the gift box was a nearly transparent tank-top she’d worn while unveiling the best present she'd ever given him. She’d drawn some hilarious whale condom hybrid and written free willy in big letters. That had been a very, very good night. It had been the first time he'd had her without a condom, and was probably one of their best marathons to date. Did his Little Monster have a new sexscapade planned? J smiled sadly, he wondered just what kind of fun she had planned before she was taken from him. There were a series of numbers and letters at the base of the box that he quickly realized were coordinates.

            He plugged the coordinates in his phone and was surprised to arrive at the warehouse where they’d stashed The Reaper. It took him longer to find the clue this time. The present was wrapped the same way as the last one and sat atop of a large blood stain. J wondered absently if it was Harley’s or The Reaper’s blood, they both had lost a significant volume that day. If Harley had been planning some kind of sexy adventure, this was a poor choice of location. There was another tarot card she’d written ‘are no fun.’ He tore apart the present and damn near cut his finger tip off on a batarang. The only thing that stopped the blade from hitting the bone was a chunk of plastic that was impaled on the knife edge. He turned it the chunk of plastic this way and that, unsure what the mystery item was. It was the same color and size as the chunk of plastic they’d pulled from Harley’s arm but this one wasn't shattered into a million fucking pieces. J pulled the tissue paper from the box, hoping for another clue but only found a string of numbers. It took him a moment, but he quickly realized that it was the key code to enter their apartment at the club.

            Joker stormed into the club, his fingers throbbing from the way he’d clenched the steering wheel. Some dealer approached him, obviously eager for his attention. Joker didn't so much as turn to face him before emptying his clip into the man's head. Whatever Harley was trying to tell him, it wasn’t good. He couldn’t tell if he had a bad feeling because of the events of the last 48 hours or just from the macabre scavenger hunt she'd sent him on. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

            Another present, much larger than the last two, sat on the coffee table of their club apartment. This one’s card read “unless you share with everyone.” He wasn’t sure how to trace the line between a memento of a very fun, very sexy night with the weapon that had put his girl out of commission for weeks. Mystery could be funny. Maybe it was better to leave it that way. Despite himself, J watched his hands go to lift the top off the box. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. There was a small confetti and glitter explosion while circus music played and three objects were launched into the air. J began to laugh, maybe there was no secret message. Maybe it was just a joke.

            When he turned around to find the objects she’d primed to launch into the air, his laughter became hysterical. There were three small articles of clothing that he couldn’t remember the word for but he knew were meant for infants, each with one word scrawled on them. He arranged them on the glittery table in front of him and suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. Together they simply read “we fucked up.”

  

* * *

 

 

            Joker wasn’t really sure what he was doing. He’d smashed all of their furniture and thrown it into a now smoldering pile on one side of the room.  He figured he must have set it on fire. No one else was there to do it and he’d always had an affection for flames. Or, rather, there hadn’t been anyone else in the room until Slappy came bursting through the door with a fire extinguisher.

            Slappy shoved Joker into the shower with a glare. Joker just stood there under the water letting the soot and glitter wash down the drain for an unknown length of time. He stared at himself in the mirror, whipping away the condensation. His eyeliner was everywhere. His face looked contorted and wrong. There was a marker on the floor, who knew from when or why it was there, and without thinking he drew a smile onto his face. That was better. After all, what kind of Joker wouldn’t have a grin for the crowd?

            When he emerged from the bathroom the room was clean, no trace of fire or confetti bomb. Too clean. Too perfect. Not nearly chaotic enough. Not nearly funny enough. Joker moved methodically, as if he was in a trance, spray painting “HAHA” all over the walls and floors while his other hand gripped a bottle of some brownish liquor. It didn’t matter what it was, just that he drank it all.

            At some point, Joker wasn’t sure when, he’d removed almost everything from their closet. He couldn’t breathe as he surrounded himself in a dangerous nest of weapons and trinkets from their adventures on the floor. Concentric circles of knives, guns, empty bottles of liquor, clothes, roses. Some items, like her red and black Jester suit, made a broken smile travel across his face. Others, like the baby clothes he couldn’t remember the names of, made his hysterical laughed bubble up from somewhere deep within him. He placed them on the outside of the circle with their message pointed down. He couldn’t look at them anymore.

            J tried not to think about what Harley’s scavenger hunt might have meant as he took the first Ativan of many and fought to keep it out of his mind as he finished one bottle of whiskey after another. He tried to ignore the obvious meaning of her “free willy” shirt, the first night he’d had her with nothing between them. He tried to pretend he had no idea what the plastic thing on the edge of the batarang was. He tried to imagine an alternate reason for why she would have written that they fucked up on baby clothes.

            Harley had been acting oddly for the last few weeks and J had figured something bad had happened. But this… this wasn’t one of them. The fact she somehow (after three acid baths between the two, playing with his chemical concoctions, and routinely getting shot, beaten, and stabbed) possibly had gotten pregnant was fucking astonishing.

            Part of him was furious she didn’t tell him. She’d kept a secret and that was against the rules. She was his and he was hers and she wasn’t supposed to keep anything from him. How dare she keep something so important so secret?

            Another part of him was disgusted. What the fuck was she thinking? They needed to get rid of the damn thing, now. Before it got her killed. Before it ruined everything. He couldn’t keep her safe when she was her fully vicious self, let alone if she was slowed down by a huge pregnant belly or some brat. She couldn’t keep herself safe, his Little Monster was a fearless creature who shot (or stabbed, or hit, or bludgeoned) first and avoided questions later. She was perfection. How could she be so fucking stupid?

            Admittedly, part of him saw the appeal in the notion of part of him growing inside of her, claiming her from the inside out. If he hadn’t been so drunk and hadn’t popping Ativan like they were tic-tacs, he probably would have been aroused by the imagined view of his pregnant Little Monster round with his get.

            But Joker wasn’t one to be led around by his cock. Pregnancy could get her killed. And a brat could be used against them, another piece of leverage against his empire. Not to mention a brat would distract attention her attention away from him. That would be catastrophic. No, his Little Monster was perfect as she was. They had built a perfect life together, filled with violence and chaos and pranks. There was no place for a third wheel.

            Just as well she probably lost the damn thing when they crashed, Joker laughed painfully. For some reason he didn’t like that idea. The only ones who should decide what happened to that thing were Harley and himself. Not Batsy. Not Gotham. They didn’t get a say. They were far too useless and stupid to have any right to make choices for their royal couple. In the off chance she was still pregnant, he needed to get her quickly before her guards found out. No one would make that choice for them. He would bust her out and, if she was still pregnant, they would take care of it then.

            Joker was cackling at the ceiling, laughing hysterically when Frost came in. The man sat down on the step and had J been able to think he would have seen the worry in the exhausted man’s posture.

            “Where is she?” Joker demanded while taking a deep drink of whiskey. He could dimly hear Frost explaining how fucking unreachable his Harley was. It made him cackle in a disturbed parody of laughter. Of course, the one fucking time he _needed_ to break her out quickly it was going to be next to impossible.

            Joker smiled dangerously and as small parts of him that could feel melted away. There was no J. No Puddin’. Just capital-T ‘The’ capital-J ‘Joker.’ Joker let himself go completely cold and distant and told Frost to pull the car around. He had an idea and knew just the man for the job.

 

* * *

 

            When she hid under her blankets as if she was asleep, she could pretend she was home.

            If she breathed through her mouth, she could almost ignore the metallic and moldy scent of the prison and imagine the smell of her Puddin’. Cologne, gun powder, clove cigarettes, and traces of gasoline.

            If she did her best to forget the last weeks, she could pretend she was nauseated from drinking too heavily the night before not from a secret growing inside her. Or that she was puking up her greyish meals from a bad trip, not her Bumplet being an asshole.

            If she closed her eyes, she could imagine the sheets weren’t scratchy standard issue prison bedding but the silk she and Puddin’ preferred. That she was still in bed, waiting for her Puddin’ to join her.

            If she didn’t pay too much attention, the guard’s clattering steps and gunfire could just as easily be her henchmen.

            “Quinzelle,” a voice snapped. Harley growled, how dare someone try and pull her from her reverie. Let alone use a pathetic dead girl's name to talk to her.

            “That’s not my name, baby” Harley purred, stalking towards the guard. She didn’t recognize his face. He was tallish and pale with dark hair, she supposed he was good looking but found him rather boring. “Ooh, did they send me a new toy? The last one was getting a little rough around the edges after our little playdate last week. I guess I was a little rough with him. Oopsies. What’s my new toy’s name?”

            “Griggs.” He grunted, shoving a tray of food at her. “Now be a good girl and try not to puke this one up too. Else I might have to get creative with feeding you.” Harley took it and tossed it to her bed, looking the man up and down.

            “Mhm, Griggsy, Griggsy, Griggsy,” she moaned, “Why don’t you come in here and I’ll show you just how creative I can be?” She giggled, fluttering her eyelashes at him and licking the bar of the cell.

            “God, you’re a mess aren’t you, hotness?” The man growled, “but Frost told me all about your watch collection and just what you do to men who touch you. I like living.” Harley jolted as if she’d been electrocuted.

            “How does a good little boy like you know about such a fixture of the underworld?” She asked, trying to sound smooth.

            “Slappy sends his regards, whatever the fuck that means.” The man said quickly, before handing her a pudding cup and scurrying away from the cell.

            Harley sat back on her bed holding the pudding cup close to her chest. She peeled back the lid.There was a note written on the underside of the lid in her Puddin’s hand writing and simply said, “I’m coming for you.” There was a small knife from her collection that she quickly slid into her hair before curling up on her bed holding the pudding lid to her chest. She didn’t dare rest her hand on her stomach, afraid a more observant guard would notice and begin to ask questions. Instead she let her thighs press against her abdomen and feel her barley there bump. She liked to imagine that somehow even though her Puddin’ was hundreds of miles away, she was close to him when she touched their Bumplet.

 

* * *

 

            Joker knew where Harley was. Griggs, his useful little pawn, was in place. A submissive toy who would be able to at least limit the amount of damage people at the black site would do to her. He wouldn't be able to stop everything, but he would make sure it wouldn't get as bad as it could be. Griggs wouldn't dare touch a hair on her head when he knew just what _The Joker_ would do to him. But the most important thing he could do was make sure Harley came home to him.

           J spent the next several hours in front of a mirror with a scalpel drawing dozens of smiley faces across his torso. He hoped that Harley would be home before it healed.

            She wasn’t.

  

* * *

 

 

            “I told you to be a good girl, or I would have to get creative.” Griggs shouted, pulling the NJ tube from Harley’s nose while another guard released the restraints on her arms. She swallowed back vomit, trying to ignore the heightened gag reflex of first trimester pregnancy. As soon as her foot was free, she kicked the nameless guard in the groin as hard as she could. The man collapsed the ground groaning.

            “Give me a break, you’re just stressed and are taking it out on poor little me.” She shot him her best puppy eyes. “My baby has got your balls in the palm of his hand and-” Griggs cut her off with a hard slap across her face.

            “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Griggs yelled. Harley froze for a moment before licking the blood off her lips and smiling up at him.

            “Ooh, he likes it rough. Do it again!” She giggled. Griggs slapped her so hard that she fell off the gurney and landed on the floor. She intentionally curled so she’d land on her knees and not her belly. Part of her winced in fear, this was a dangerous game to play with her Bumplet on board. But she couldn’t stop herself. The longer she was imprisoned the harder it was to check her impulses.

            The men stormed out of her cell, leaving her on the floor laughing until she cried.

 

* * *

 

            His smily faces scabbed over and skin grew back. Joker thought about carving them again but couldn't take their sarcastic joy anymore. He'd already scratched "HAHA" into his skin more times than he could count. Frost had kept him updated on Harley through Griggs. Being The Joker had it's benefits, he didn't even really have to do anything to Griggs and he was putty in his hands. While he didn't expect Griggs to protect Harley, it would blow his cover and Harley would hate it, he claimed to be looking out for her. From what Griggs had shared with Frost, she was being a pain in the ass to the guards, which was perfect. She wouldn't stop being the Queen just because she was imprisoned. Harley would always be Harley. He hadn't told anyone about Harley's scavenger hunt and Griggs hadn't relayed any information that would make him think she was still pregnant. While it wasn't his personal preference, that was the best possible outcome.

            He was drunkenly staring at his cocoon of Harley's toys, weapons, and presents when he stumbled across the deck of cards in a pile of shattered glass she'd stolen for him for their first anniversary. It was underneath several framed photos of the two of them that he'd thrown at the wall in a fit of rage. The cards were almost the same size as the photos and, if you weren't paying attention, could be confused for face cards. Joker liked to imagine that maybe this was all just part of a game he didn't get yet. An idea popped into his head and he couldn't stop himself from laughing.

           One unhinged phone call later, some low-level goons dragged a tattoo portrait artist Harley liked into the club. She’d wanted to get something done by her before she was taken. The artist was terrified but did a good job. She'd flawlessly recreated the antique cards and had transformed the queen of hearts into a portrait of Harley and the Joker into a portrait of him beautifully. Now those cards smiled dangerously at each other on the back of his neck over a simple word that Gotham should never forget when facing their royal couple: kneel.

            The tattoo was perfect timing, he laughed hysterically through his drunken haze. It would be finished just in time for him to kidnap the doctor who created the little bomb in Harley’s neck. Harley would get to see it right when the redness faded.

            Harley. He needed his Harley. Just one more month. He’d have everything he needed to rescue her very, very soon. He just hoped he’d get to her while there was still something of each of them left.

 

* * *

 

 

            "You bitch!" A tall man in tactical gear that covered his face screamed, pinning Harley's to the wall of her cell by her neck. "Derrick will never walk again, do you know that? He's can't move a damn thing below the shoulders."

            "Aw, did I do that?" Harley giggled, spitting out a mouth full of blood.

            "You attacked him for no fucking reason!" He shouted, pushing her the to ground.

            "I'm a bad guy. I don't need a reason, remember?" She responded condescendingly as possible.

            "Why did you do it?" He screamed, kneeling over her prone form and slapping her across the face. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" Harley made a cartoonish and overdone face of confusion before shrugging comically.

            “Harder daddy?” Harley laughed, triggering the nameless guard to kick her in the side. Harley screamed internally, terrified of how close the kick was to her Bumplet.

            “Are you trying to get yourself killed, Quinzell?” Griggs shouted from across the room, storming into the cell. The nameless guard stepped back, looking at his boss, unsure if there would be any repercussions for his attack.

            "Back up Adams," Griggs said authoritatively. The guard who'd been attacking Harley stepped back fingering his baton, obviously wanting to use it. Griggs brushed passed him and picked Harley up by her hair and whispered in her ear, "Your making it very hard to keep you alive, particularly since I don't want to." He pushed her back to the ground and kicked her in the shoulder.

            “I’m bored! No one wants to play with me!” Harley wined, blood dribbling down her chin, while she staggered to her feet. She ignored Harleen's screeches telling her to sit down and shut up before Griggs and his men hurt her worse. She couldn't stop herself. Baiting these men was the only thing that made her feel alive anymore. 

            “You’ve killed eight of my men! Do you think anyone stupid enough to play with you?” He laughed incredulously.

            “Oh, you want to.” She purred, placing a seductive hand on his chest. She knew she should stop and behave. Griggs was obviously close to his snapping point. He was under pressure from her Puddin' and she wasn't helping by routinely killing and severely harming his subordinates. 

            "What I want is to hand you over to my guards and let them fuck you bloody and kill you slowly." Griggs growled. Her eyes narrowed and time slowed down. No one spoke to her like that. No one threatened her with that. Harley lunged at him, biting him in the neck as hard as she could. Before she even had the chance to spit out the chunk of flesh, the guard who had attacked her before Griggs arrived tackled her to the floor.

            “You bitch! Maybe I'll give you to them anyway.” Griggs shouted while slapping a hand over his freely bleeding wound, “Cuff her.” A whole team of men came charging into her cell. A guard in tactical gear quickly slid a cuff on one wrist and threaded it through a bar on the ceiling and clipped it to the other wrist. Griggs turned towards his men and announced, "Leave her alive. Other than that, she's all yours boys"

            Harley danced on her toes trying to swallow back her panic. She could already see where this was going and didn’t like it. She’d hung up people like this in the past. Human punching bags were very funny when they weren't her.

            “You sure you wanna go down this path, sweetie?” Harley laughed with false confidence. “Not sure Puddin’ will like it.” Baiting them was obviously stupid, she knew she was in a precarious position. Every day she was away from her Puddin’ her grip on reality was wavering. The voices were louder. Dreams and waking life were harder to tell apart. The only thing that seemed real was her Bumplet. She knew she was putting that all at risk every time she attacked the men, but she couldn’t stop herself.  
            “Whose gonna tell him,” he whispered with a sarcastic laugh, "me?" Harley forced herself to grin and laugh. She was fucked. “You’ve been killing and hurting my men for weeks. It’s our turn to have a little fun, get a little practice in. We need to be in tip-top shape to keep you in line. You don’t mind helping to do?” He growled.

            Harley began to laugh. It started off quiet and built louder and louder until it was deafening. The harder they hit, the more men filed in, the more hysterical it got. There was vomit on her chin. Her nose was broken. One of her shoulders threatened to dislocate. Blows reined on her abdomen.

            She wanted to scream, beg them to stop, but she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. She would never beg for anything again. The Bumplet was her secret. Her friend. Her lie. No one else could know. It was hers. She was a Queen and Queens don't beg.

            Time stopped making sense. Eventually they must have let her down but she didn’t notice. She was too busy laughing. Harley rocked back and forth in the corner of her cell trying not to look down. She didn’t want to know. Harley was dimly aware of how badly her body hurt. But the pain was good, it was distracting. It made it easier to ignore the cramping in her abdomen.

            “Puke on the floor again and I will tube you,” Griggs threatened, shoving a bucket into the cell and storming out. Harley crawled over to the bucket, heaving until there was nothing left. She curled up on her side, still laughing, trying to ignore what felt like period cramps from hell. Reality blurred away at some point as her cackles consumed her. 

            When she came to, she was lying in a puddle of blood. Harley crawled towards her bed, trying to ignore her wet and sticky pants. Everything was fine. She was going to be ok. The Bumplet had survived so much. It would survive until her Pudidn’ came to get her. Then they would decide what to do. It would be their choice. No one else’s. No one would take that away from her. The Bumplet was hers. She had just gotten covered in blood from her nose. That was all. The Bumplet was fine. The Bumplet was stronger and better than any of these men. They weren't powerful enough to take it away. She wasn’t having cramps, it was just bruising from being hit so many times.

            Harley slid her hand under her mattress to the place she’d hidden the lid to her pudding container. Her eyes were too swollen to make out individual words, but she knew her Puddin’ had touched it. He wrote that message for her. He was coming for her. He would come get her and their Bumplet. Everything would be fine. Her pants weren’t soaked with blood, it must be something else. The Bumplet was theirs. No one else’s. The only people who could decide what happened to the Bumplet was herself and her Puddin'. No one else. She and her Puddin' would be together and everything could go back to normal. She was still his and he was hers. They couldn’t take that away.

            She held the lid to her chest, rocking back and forth. Even through her blurry gaze should could see the bright red stain blooming on her crotch and thighs. Her laughter turned to screams. Screams that communicated a kind of pain deeper than any physical suffering. Screams that crawled inside your head and made you feel sick to your stomach.

            “What the hell is wrong with you?” Griggs shouted, slamming his baton against the bars of the cell. “Shut the fuck up!” Harley didn’t respond, her screams still echoing through the room. “Get me a dart gun with lorazepam!” He shouted over his shoulder.

            Harley felt the sting of the dart, still screaming. Her dizziness got worse and she began to slump over. Eventually Griggs entered the cell with his gun drawn. He pushed Harley onto the bed and restrained her limbs to its posts.

            “What the fuck?” He exclaimed, obviously surprised by the blood. Harley began to murmur, shaking her head back and forth. He demanded, “Quinzell! What’s going on?”

            “Not supposed to bleed like that anymore.” She chanted. “Not supposed to bleed like that anymore.”

            “What are you talking about?” He whispered, obviously panicking. “Get a doctor in here!” He shouted over his shoulder.

            “Not supposed to bleed like that anymore.” She sobbed, shaking violently. The world went blurry and Harley sunk into the thin mattress fighting the growing need to close her eyes.

            “Puddin’ will kill you for this.” She said weakly, “he’ll kill you for taking what was ours.” She heard Griggs run to the corner of the cell to vomit. After several minutes he began to pace, muttering to himself. Just when Harley was surrendering the sedative, he lunged to her side and held a knife to her throat.

            “No. No, he won’t. You won’t tell him a damn thing. If he knew you were knocked up, Frost would have warned me. You kept it a secret for a reason.” He paused to think, panting. “I did you a favor, now he never needs to know…” Griggs tailed off in a threatening tone, “But if you act up, I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him everything and he won’t come get you. You’ll be trapped here until I kill you. Got it, hotness?” He asked, slicing a superficial cut across her neck.

            Harley said nothing, too far away and lost in another world to respond to his threats. She closed her eyes and let the darkness pull her under.

* * *

 

            Joker packed a trunk with her things and handed it off to a set of goons. He wouldn’t let anyone else touch her belongings. They were sacred objects that no one could sully with their dirty hands. He selected each article of clothing, each weapon, each accessory with care. Each to send her a message. It had everything she needed to go from prisoner to Harley Quinn, for his Little Monster to come back to him. He hoped that she would remember him. That she would know he hadn’t forgotten her. That she was still his and he was still hers.

 

* * *

 

 

            Time was confusing.

            A doctor came and went. She gave Harley a sad smile and an injection that made the darkness come back. When she woke up, the cell and her body had both been scrubbed clean. The cramps were still bad, but the doctor had given her some pills that helped and pads to at least contain the mess.

            Days and nights passed. Shifts of guards changed. Griggs came and went.

            Her voices grew louder. Harleen sobbed constantly. The Lady screamed and threatened everything and everyone. She commanded her to kill, tear, rip, destroy. Harley did her best to comply.

            They took away all of her furniture after she killed a few more men so she spent her time hanging on make shift silks pretending she was at home and her Puddin’ was watching.

            None of the guards would look at her anymore. Only Griggs. He seemed to think he was in control. That her Puddin’ would leave her for this. Sometimes she worried Griggs was right.

            Harley laughed to herself. Baited the guards. Hurt as many of them as she could.

            Time meant nothing without her Puddin’. Sometimes she wondered if she was real. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe she was already dead. She wasn’t sure anymore. She just giggled, swinging on her make-shift silks.

 

* * *

 

 

            Joker admired his new helicopter and grinned at his captive scientist. He would get Harley. One more night and she would be his again. She was being moved any minute. No matter what, he would have her.

            He laughed brokenly and wondered if had truly lost the last of his mind.

 

* * *

 

            The cage wasn’t home, but they were taking her away from it. Never go to the secondary location. She wasn’t sure how many places she’d been taken by now but didn’t want to go to another one. It would be harder for her Puddin’ to find her.

            She began to laugh until it hurt.

            It was only when Griggs handed her a cell phone that she felt like she could breath. Like the hollowness in her abdomen didn’t matter so much.

            Grinning she turned to the men, there was a way out of this. She’d get back to her Puddin’ or she’d die. Her Puddin’ was coming, she just had to pretend a little longer.

 

* * *

 

            J couldn’t move. Everything hurt, he could dimly hear the sound of monitors beeping and smell iodine and rubbing alcohol. Looking down, J began to laugh only to find it hurt too much to move. He his burns and puncture wounds on the right side of his body were wrapped up and his forearm that was either broken or shattered was in a thick cast. His back was the worst of it. If he focused, he could feel a line of staples holding his flesh together over his right kidney where the largest chunk of shrapnel had been imbedded.

            He closed his eyes and bit back a scream. He had been so close, she was in his arms. He had her, for just a moment.  For a moment he could breath, for a moment everything made sense.He had her. Then everything had gone to hell.          

            Now it felt like his heart had been punctured, not his kidney, from the plate glass window he had been thrown through while jumping out of the bird.

            “J?” A voice said quietly. J didn’t move or acknowledge the voice. “J. I’m so, so sorry.” Frost said again, entering the room with a boldness J was unfamiliar with. He didn't respond.

            “We’re going to get her.” Frost eventually said with determination.

            “How?” J rasped, surprised by how rough his voice sounded. “She’s back in fucking blacksite.”

            “There’s some higher up called Rick Flag. Harley saved his life and he's willing to give us a ten-minute window to get her. It will take me a few weeks to get it together and coordinate with him- but it will take you a few weeks to be healthy enough to lead the raid- but we can get Harley back.” Frost said, trying to convince his Boss.

            “Harley,” whispered J. He went silent envisioning his girl and the moment he’d had with her. “Get me a copy of your plans by tomorrow night and introduce me to your source.” He growled, sounding more like himself than he had since Harley had been taken five months ago.

            “Yes, Boss.” Frost smiled and walked out of the room.

 

* * *

 

            Harley sat on the floor of her cell, a uselessly small mug of espresso in one hand and a romance novel in the other. She stared at the dark liquid vacantly. They took her freedom. Took her friends. Took her Bumplets. Took her Puddin’. Took everything. And this, caffeine and books, was her reward.

            She squeezed her eyes shut trying to stabilize her breathing. Waller told her that living was her reward. Clearly the woman didn’t understand. Living was part of the punishment. The only comfort she had was her memories and the only hope she could dream of was getting to kill those that put her here. Waller. Griggs. Batsy. They would all die screaming. Begging. Then she would kill herself. Death would be her reward.

            But she would get revenge first.

            Her sleeping and waking life were consumed by flashes of her Puddin’. Memories of the two of them together. Dreams she’d had about him. Things she imagined him doing or saying. Silent one way conversations she had with him about things they were going to do one day. Fantasies she’d created to comfort herself with at night. The moments she’d had with her Puddin’ weeks ago in the helicopter stretched out in her mind to last hours and days. Eventually it became hard to tell which memories were and which were fantasies or hallucinations.

            Harley dug her nails into her leg to shut herself up before she started muttering to her voices. Her babysitters couldn’t know her plans. No. She needed to seem tamed. Compliant. Changed. That way when they would never suspect her next move when they let her out next time to do Waller’s dirty work.

            Crying wouldn’t do her any good anymore. Once she’d been returned to her cell she’d sobbed for days and refused to eat or drink. It took a hallucination of her Puddin’ at her bedside reminding her that she wasn’t allowed to die until she got revenge for her to eat. So, she ate. Slept. Woke up. Made coffee. Pretended to read.

            But when her eyes flickered over the pages, she always found her mind wandering away. Sometimes it wandered in less painful directions, like wondering if the Aussie got to keep his stuffed unicorn wherever they were stashing him now or if Slappy had ever replaced his tattered striped black and white pants. Sometimes it wandered in excruciating directions like watching her Puddin’s helicopter crash again, and again, and again. Sometimes it wandered in ways that made her wish she could just die already like when the enchantress’s offer echoed in her head.

            Harley couldn’t tell if she hated herself for saying no to the Enchantress or not. On the one hand, she didn’t trust the bitch to come through on her promises and definitely didn’t want to be in debt to her if she did. On the other, the metahuman offered her everything she ever wanted. A world where her Puddin’ hadn’t been taken from her. A world where her Puddin' was willing to marry her, no matter how stupid and pointless he thought it was. A world where she and her Puddin’ and their Bumplet (or, rather, Bumplets according to the Enchantress) were together. It was hard to pick a worst part of that day, there were several appalling highlights to choose from, but seeing what her Bumplets would have looked like had they been born was a special kind of hell that even she’d never would have dreamed up in her most creative cruelty.

            Surprised from her daydream by a gush of warmth, Harley looked down only to realize she’d sunk her nails deep into the meat of her thigh and was bleeding fairly heavily. The blood shined and distracted her from the painful emptiness inside of her where the last living memory of her Puddin’ had lived. Blood. It was what she was living for. Waller. Griggs. Batsy. She’d get their blood and leave them screaming. Then she could join her Puddin’.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breathe. I didn't enjoy writing this chapter and I would be surprised if you all enjoyed reading it. But it was always a central part of the story I was going to tell. Saturday’s chapter will be easier, I promise. Love it? Hate it? Hate me? Let me your very nervous fanfic author know in the comments bellow.  
> 


	11. Are You Real?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, two people carrying a saw charged her cell and began hacking at the door. Interesting. While Harley didn’t doubt that she was the most interesting living person in Gotham, there weren’t many people with both the motive and means to capture her anymore.  
> A third person came forward as the cell door burst open. He was tall and thin, but he moved with deadly grace that screamed danger to any sane person. Harley refused to recognize the gait or silhouette. He was dead. She was hallucinating. This couldn’t be happening. But then he stripped off his helmet and Harley nearly collapsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are we doing after last week’s chapter? I know it was rough (trust me I know, I spent almost a month reluctantly writing and rewriting the damn thing). This week’s chapter is a much easier read, hopefully you feel that was to (although fair warning, Harley gets some revenge in this chapter which may or may not be a rough read depending on how much schadenfreude you got going on).  
> Songs: Off to the Races- Lana Del Rey; Secret- The Pierces; Trouble- Halsey; I Will Love you- Gin Wigmore

            “Are you sure you want to wear a vest with your name on it? We got a few backups.” Frost asked incredulously looking at the pile of tactical gear Joker had laid out on the floor of the plane.

            “They’ll be too distracted to read it until later.” Joker cackled, pulling on his disguise. He hadn’t stolen a private plane before, but he rather liked it. Only the best for Gotham’s royalty. He wasn’t about to break Harley out and make her ride for hours in a car back to Gotham or put them on some commercial flight. Far too much risk for not nearly enough reward on that one.

            “It’s an unnecessary risk.” Frost responded evenly. Joker turned and looked at the man threateningly while fingering his side arm.

            “So is talking.” He snarled with a dangerous grin before returning to suiting up. “Now, is the caravan ready or did you just come because you were interested in seeing how well your bullet proof vest works?”

            “Yes, Boss. Men are loaded and ready to leave on your command.” Frost nodded stiffly before walking away.

            Once Frost was out of sight, J sat down on the plush couch and put his head in his hands. He couldn’t remember being this on edge before. Ever. He hadn’t seen, really seen, Harley in six months. Yes, he’d seen her for moments in the helicopter but that wasn’t the same. In all those months, he’d had a million things to say to her, from the mundane and logistical parts of their life to the chaotic games he wished she was there for to the fucking painful moments when he wanted to die. But now that he was less than an hour from being reunited with her, he had no idea what he was going to say.

            Joker growled to himself while fiddling with the trigger of his automatic weapon, it didn’t matter what he was going to say. Until he had his Little Monster far away from these people, nothing mattered. He would break her out. They would get away. They would kill everyone who separated them. Things would go back to normal. No one was going to get in the way of that. He launched himself out of his seat, picked up his helmet, and charged towards the exit door of the plane.

            “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Joker said mockingly, stepping on to the tarmac. “Are we ready to rumble, boys? Because I am ready to get this show on the road.” He laughed hysterically.

 

* * *

 

            Harley flinched away from the explosion and reached for the knife she’d hidden in her hair. It was the last thing she still had from her Puddin’. She had no fucking idea who would be bursting into a blacksite but would guess they weren’t knights in shining armor. Perfect. Just her type. She stood in the far side of her cell in a defensive position, excited to see if this was her opportunity to escape. Maybe she wouldn’t have to wait on Waller to have a special mission for her to breakout and get her revenge. Maybe she would be joining her Puddin’ soon.  
            A group of people in tactical gear stormed the room. Harley wanted to vomit. Those were the kinds of outfits Grigg’s men had worn. Those were the kinds of people that took her Bumplets. Those were the kinds of people shot down her Puddin’. She narrowed her eyes; she hadn’t killed anyone in almost a month. Playing along with the rules was so boring. She could use some entertainment before she made her break for it.

           Suddenly, two people carrying a saw charged her cell and began hacking at the door. Interesting. While Harley didn’t doubt that she was the most interesting _living_ person in Gotham, there weren’t many people with both the motive and means to capture her anymore. That's not to say people didn't want her dead, she’d killed more than enough of their ‘loved ones,’ but very few had the skills and toys needed to break into a blacksite. That required a fair bit of money and there was no one to pay ransom for her anymore.

            A third person came forward as the cell door burst open. He was tall and thin, but he moved with deadly grace that screamed danger to any sane person. Harley refused to recognize the gait or silhouette. He was dead. She was hallucinating. This couldn’t be happening. But then he stripped off his helmet and Harley nearly collapsed.

            For a moment she was frozen. Had she’d forgotten how arresting his eyes were? They were haunting and unsettling and her whole fucking world. Had just six months made her forget the exact shade of his red lipstick? Or how the light reflecting off his grill could stop her mid-sentence, hypnotizing her with his gilded, feral smile?

            She didn’t understand how or why he was both alive and here. But she didn’t care. It was probably just an elaborate hallucination or dream, but it didn’t matter. It was the most realistic delusion she’d had so far. If this was all she was going to get she’d take it.

            “Puddin’!” she all but screamed before she could stop herself. Harley launched herself at him, ignoring the hail of bullets and occasional explosions. There was nothing that could stop her from clinging to him.

            J crushed to her to his chest. He almost never touched her in public but he, or this imagined version of him, didn’t seem to care. He leaned and whispered in her ear in the haunting voice that she’d dreamed of and longed for since the moment Batsy had taken her away six months ago.

            “Let’s go home.”

* * *

            J stared at Harley blankly. It was so odd to see her there. It was the perfect punchline to a cruel joke. Harley in their hide out. Harley here with him. He refused to look away from her the whole way back to Gotham just in case she disappeared. Even with her sitting on a chair in their bedroom back at their hideout, it didn’t seem real.

            Harley seemed to feel the same way, if he had to guess. She’d refused to let go of him since he took off his helmet in her cage. Not while they cut power to unlock the prison doors. Not when they set the place on fire. That hadn’t been part of the deal with Flagg, but it had to be done. No place that captured his Queen could stay standing. Some people would make it out. Most wouldn’t. Normally the chaos would have made them laugh, but neither had said a word.

            If he let go of her to fire his weapon or light a fuse, she would cling back on to his other arm. He rarely held her in public, but he made an exception this time, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her to his body as they made the short walk from the car into the plane he had ‘borrowed’ from Wayne Enterprises.

            He kneeled in front of her and looked at her critically, as if the lines of her face would tell him everything that happened in the last six months. His tattooed fingers traced down her cheek, noting the deep shadows under her eyes and the dull cast of her skin. He trailed over shoulders noting how boney they had become. Without thinking about it, his hands ran over her flat stomach, as if checking to make sure the _thing_ was gone.

            When he hallucinated her, she was always pregnant, getting rounder and rounder each time he imagined her. He didn’t know what happened, but she wasn’t pregnant now and that’s all that mattered. Griggs had never mentioned any out of character behavior from her in all the months of captivity. He figured she had thankfully already lost the thing by the time she got to Belle Reave. At least Batsy, an _almost_ worthy opponent, had done it. Not those simpering idiots at the blacksite who cloaked their lust for violence in ‘duty’ and ‘service.’

            “They thought they could take you from me,” he finally said in a hollow voice refocusing on Harley’s face. “They thought that you would stay peacefully and let them have you?” He laughed dangerously, “That they were strong enough to stop me?”

            “Puddin’, you know no one is!” She hissed through a pained grin. “They thought just because I helped them once, I would be their little pet.”

            “Behave? You?” The two dissolved into a twisted kind of laughter, unable to speak between painful gasps for air. Occasionally one would say manage to squeak out “they thought” or “as if” and their cries would restart.

* * *

             Harley’s cruel giggles slowly ended as she tilted her head to stare up at J, placing her hand on his cheek.

            “You got me.” She said, this time in something approaching a calm voice.

            “You’re home.” He said, his distorted smile fading into something slightly saner.

            “You’re alive,” She said smiling broadly while her fingers running through his hair that had been ruffled out of its usual perfectly flat top into a tangled mess from the helmet.

            “I’m notoriously hard to kill.” He laughed bitterly, pressing his body against hers as if trying to prove this was real. Harley pressed her lips to his for the first time in months. It felt so right, her crazy pieces were interlinking with his and making some kind of perfect bubble where all was right in the world. When she was in that bubble, she could almost forget the last months. Forget everything she should have told him. Forget what happened in Belle Reave. Forget the hollow feeling in her abdomen that woke her up screaming. Forget what Griggs had taken.

            “That’s what Deadshot told me. He said you're harder to kill than I am and since I made it out OK maybe you did to. But I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t.” Harley whispered into his neck.

            “Deadshot?” J asked, raising a naked eyebrow.

            “One of the bad guys blessed with my presence on our field trip. He’s real soft for a hitman but he’s good at what he does, and he kept me from getting myself killed too often. Which was annoying but someone’s gotta do it and it definitely isn’t gonna be me.” Harley said sarcastically, trying to ignore the wince of discomfort when she thought of her friends. How many of them had been in the prison with her when they set it on fire? Did any of them make it out?

            “Did Baby make friends at summer camp?” J asked, making Harley bark out a laugh.

            “Sure did, Puddin’ and pissed them off beyond belief. They eventually learned how to have some fun.” God, they had been annoying in the beginning. None of them wanted to play with her. “There were a bunch of us. Only a couple lived long enough to be interesting and you wouldn’t like most of them. But I think you woulda liked Killer Croc. He’s a funny looking, angsty little drama queen- and he eats people, which is pretty funny.”

            “Hmm, maybe we can give him some gainful employment if he’s still alive.” J laughed dangerously. “Who else did you play with?”

            “Tried to play with might be more accurate, Puddin'. They didn’t get understand how to play, especially the lady with the sword. The Aussie was funny but you woulda gotten annoyed and killed him pretty quick. Not to speak ill of the dead but Diablo took forever to be fun and show off his skills- but he could set himself on fire, which I know you like,” she winked. Suddenly the levity disappeared from Harley’s face before she continued speaking, but this time in a halting and angry tone.

            “He was an idiot though and thought he could have it all and ended up killing his whole family.” The words escaped her lips even as she tried to stop them.

            “Harley?” J asked, obviously concerned and somewhat confused. Harley’s mind was far away, hearing the story of Diablo burning his family to death over and over again. The son of a bitch thought he could the best of both worlds. Be some special bad guy, get to play their games and go home to a wife and kids. It wasn’t fair he got that, at least for a little while, and she never got the chance. It was fucked up beyond belief and completely predictable that he killed them all. Just like it was completely fucking predictable that she provoked her guards until they beat the Bumplets out of her.

            “I need to get Belle Reave off of me.” Harley said in a dangerous voice with a slight shudder.

            “We’ll burn the clothes later,” J nodded down at her with an odd look in his eyes.

 

* * *

 

            “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He whispered, running his fingers through her tangled white hair. He removed the prison issued uniform from her body. She’d obviously been through some kind of hell and hadn’t found it particularly funny. His girl was still in there, he could still see her hiding in the shadows in her eyes. She just needed to be coaxed out.

            He took her by the hand and led her to the bath tub where he’d cleaned and bandaged her up after so many heists and pranks before. This time there were no visible injuries, no bleeding wounds or broken bones. Just a shell-shocked version of his girl who looked at him like he might disappear at any moment.

            “Will you get in with me?” She asked with big eyes. J didn’t normally get in the bath with her when he was tending to Daddy’s Little Monster, but tonight he needed it. Nodding silently, he stepped away to strip out of his clothes. He watched her eyes carefully as hands absently traced a new scar that ran from his collar bone, bisected his chest, and ended at his ‘God’s Only Child’ tattoo.

            “You can’t be real.” She said looking down at his burn marks and new deep, puckered scars that hadn’t been there before. “That should have killed you. I’m hallucinating again.” She squeezed her eyes closed and bit her lower lip viciously. “Goddamn it. I knew it.”

             “Then we’re both on a very convincing trip.” He laughed without humor, wiping the bead of blood the was trickling down her chin from her lip. “I managed to jump out when the damn bird exploded. I didn’t land as prettily as you did, I ended up busting through a window and landing in some boring office. Never done that before, it was fun, but I wouldn’t recommend it.” He laughed humorlessly.

            “Oh, Puddin’” Harley whispered, trying not to cry. “This is my fault. I am so, so sor-.”

            “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” he growled, placing his hand with the tattooed grin over her mouth. “It comes with the territory. I didn’t die. You didn’t die. We’re back home.” He wasn’t trying to be comforting, he was just restating the basic facts of life. Getting hurt was part of the game. While catching on fire while falling out of a helicopter was substantially worse than usual, he lived, and she was free.

            “I love you,” she whispered against his lips, kissing him gently. He held her closer. If he was a normal man, he would have told her that he loved her too. But he wasn’t and he couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. He wasn’t sure.

            “I know.” He growled, trying to ignore how his hands were shaking. J began to laugh bitterly, here was the chattiest fucking woman he’d ever met now gone almost mute and a man who had a truly dangerous lack of fear too scared to tell her something she already knew. It was painfully funny.

            He turned the water to punishingly hot, added the bubbles, and stepped into the tub with her. J scrubbed every inch of her body as if by washing away the grime and dust from Belle Reave it would rinse away her memories. Harley just smiled vacantly and leaned against her Puddin’ unwilling or unable to break the gentle silence that had bloomed between them. Harley eventually returned the favor, scrubbing and rinsing him almost reverently. He could feel his cock twitch and fill with blood as he caressed her body and she lathered his but tried to ignore his growing arousal. He had no idea what she needed right now but he didn’t think it was _that._

 

* * *

 

            Once she was done scrubbing her man, Harley sat herself on his lap and hugged him close. She sat there for a long while, just needing to hold him. Eventually she began pressing light kisses to his shoulders, neck and cheeks while his hands rubbed circles in her back. Harley shifted to look him in the eye and pressed a series of uncharacteristically gentle kisses to his lips.

            His lips were just as soft as she remembered. His cheekbones felt just as sharp under her palms as she had dreamed every night as she slept on the floor of her cage. Their lips brushed together barely touching before pressing together and beginning a dance that, by now, they knew by heart. His tongue gently brushed against her lower lip, before he gently sucked it into his mouth. Harley gasped pressing herself closer and running her hands through his unruly hair. If it wasn’t for his erection digging into her hip, their kisses would have been almost innocent. She pulled away briefly, staring at her J whose pale cheeks had just a hint of pink and had smudged red lipstick over his slightly swollen lips.

            She moved slowly, kissing each of his tattoos that she had missed so much. Starting with the ‘damaged’ tattoo she trailed kissed over the little J on his cheek, on the harlequin diamond on his neck.

            The kisses quickly transformed from sweet and innocent to slow and heated. Their lips moved against each other in increasingly passionate movements. J remained unusually passive and calm, letting her lead their kiss. Their lips and tongues danced together in a seductive rhythm.

            His hands trailed down her sides, making circles on her lower back and hips. Harley moaned faintly, shifting to straddle him. She needed to feel him against her skin feel him surrounding her. Needed to feel like he was part of her. Needed his warmth to chase her demons away, at least for tonight. But at the same time, something about it made her heart race in a bad way. They hadn’t done this since the Bumplets were taken.

            “Whatever the queen wants.” He said, his mouth open in a parody of a smile, the low lighting glinting off of his grill. Harley relaxed against him. She didn’t need to decide how far this would go; she could just live in the moment with her Puddin’. Her hips rotated downwards so the back of his erection pressed against her clitoris.

            Harley ran her fingers through his hair. Her head felt fuzzy, especially as his hands trailed up her torso and caress her breasts. J lightly teased the underside of her breasts before sliding lower in the tub, so that he was at eye level with them. His eyes were out of focus while he leaned forward to suck rhythmically on her hardened peaks. Her fingers tensed in his hair and reveled in its softness. She’d missed this.

            “Love you,” she moaned while tipping her head back. J opened his mouth as if to speak before shaking his head and pressing his lips to her collar bone.

            Harley expected him to bite and suck as he usually did, but instead his lips continued in a reverent trail across her chest. His hands wandered down to her hips and guided her against him in a slow rhythm. She could hear the splashing of water as it threatened to spill over the sides of the tub but couldn’t bring herself to care. All she needed was her Puddin’, everything else could disappear. Gotham itself could burn to the ground and as long as she had her Puddin’, she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to care.

            “Puddin’,” She moaned faintly, relishing in his responding groan. J pulled her closer, mashing her breasts against his chest and returning his lips to hers. Harley gasped at the sensation. She’d missed his pale hairless skin more than she had ever thought possible. It felt like perfection against her. Harley rested her forehead against his and stared into his eyes. Neither spoke, just breathing in each other’s breath as they grew lost in sensation of her wetness rubbing against his hard length.

            His hands traveled from her hip to her bottom. He stroked the skin lightly before scratching trails down them. Harley wasn’t sure what spell she was under, but she never knew it could be like this. That having his hands on her body and his eyes locked on hers could make her feel like _this._ Like everything was right in the world. Like she was loved. Like everything she needed was right in front of her.

            Before she could stop them, tears began to trickle down her cheeks. J froze under her, his hands moving to cradle her face.

            “What’s wrong, Little Monster?”

            “I just,” Harley sniffled, “I just love you too much.” J crushed his lips to her hard, kissing her with all the pent-up rage and desperation of the last months.

            “I know.” He finally said. “I know.”

            “Do you?” Harley asked in a fragile voice. J pulled her hair to force her to look at him.

            “I know.” He growled before picking her up out of the tub and carrying her to their bed. He didn’t bother to lay down a towel or dry either of them off before lying down on their bed. Harley launched herself at him, kissing him almost violently through her tears. She lost herself in a tangle of limbs and teeth and tongue. J rolled her over, pinning her to the bed under his weight.

            “Fuck, I missed you.” He growled, kissing a scorching path down her body. If his lips lingered slightly longer than usual on her lower abdomen Harley was too lost in sensation to notice. His long pale fingers trailed down her legs and swiped over her pussy. He gently parted her lips, making her whimper in anticipation. His lips pressed near reverent kisses to her mons before darting down to her clitoris and pressing wet kisses to its hood.

            “Puddin’!” Harley gasped. Time apart hadn’t dulled her memory of his body on hers but the sharp bliss rolling through her body felt so foreign after months of torture. J’s tongue slipped forward, slowly lapping at her. The light sensation of his tongue only fueled her desperation without really pushing her towards climax.  Without her leave, her hips bucked against his face to seek friction however she could. She could faintly hear the damp sheets tearing under her desperate grip but couldn’t bring herself to care.

            J growled lightly against her flesh when Harley’s fingers locked in his hair and began to pull. Not hard enough to leave him with two uneven bald patches, but hard enough to make his cock leak. Harley smiled to herself at the reactions she was able to pull from her stoic Puddin’. Her smugness was short lived as J suddenly slipped his hands under her legs and lifted them to rest on his shoulders and his hands gripped her ass with delightfully bruising force.

            “Fuck yes,” she gasped when his tongue started moving as if it had a mind of its own. It flicked up over her clit, giving her nub a direct press before catching on its hood and circling it with dangerously blissful circles. He suckled at her clitoris, making her intermittent shouts grew louder. He was entirely too good at this, she laughed. His tongue slipped inside of her making her all but scream.

            Harley was dimly aware that the sheets under her were now soaked from her wet hair and continuously dripping pussy. Good. Maybe the smell of sex and her Puddin’ would keep her nightmares at bay.  She looked down at her man between her legs fondly in a moment of lucidity between intense waves of pleasure. He seemed to know she was looking at him and his dangerous eyes flicked up to hers.

            “Puddin’,” she gasped, trying to keep her head upright. Fuck it was hard. But she didn’t want to look away from him. His green hair between her thighs was one of her favorite views in the world. He seemed to understand her desire to watch him and tightened his grip on her ass to literally pull her flesh up to his lips. Harley bit her lip until it bled, not wanting to miss a moment of this. Not wanting her cries and curses and moans and gasps to stifle the sounds of J’s heavy breathing and his quiet groans.

            "You’re holding back on Daddy.” He growled into her cunt, digging his nails painfully and deliciously into the globes of her ass. “Give me everything.” He all but threatened before diving back into her flesh with no small degree of enthusiasm. His lips and tongue moved from slurping at her clenching entrance and curling inside of her back to her clitoris. He sucked at her twitching and swollen clitoris for longer and longer intervals that made Harley scream his name.  

            “Yes, please!” She cried dimly aware she was grinding against his face. Harley hadn’t come in six months, both due to a strong lack of desire and lack of privacy. Now the buildup to climax was blinding. Crushing. Her entire body trembled in anticipation. Her pussy twitch around his tongue, desperate to come. She needed him like she needed air or violence. “I need you! Please!” Harley cried.

            J growled loudly against her and his fingers tightened convulsively against her flesh. It was enough. Harley came with a screech. She could have been saying his name. Or simply begging him to come. Or nothing at all. It was impossible to tell. Whatever it was, it was earsplittingly loud. Harley was dimly aware of her that she was bucking almost violently against his mouth while her fluids ran down his chin. Her pussy throbbed against him as she threw back her head, unable to maintain eye contact with him any longer.

            Harley collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air. J crawled up her body, pressing his wet lips with something akin to viciousness. His hips rocked against her soaked pussy, seemingly unable to stop himself.

            “Fuck,” he grunted against her lips. She could feel his cock twitch hard against her before a broken groan escaped his lips. Their tongues battled or danced together; it was hard to tell in the impassioned tangle. Harley could feel his cock twitching and weeping on her abdomen. She needed him inside of her. Now. His hands abruptly gripped her hips hard enough to bruise, freezing her mid-rock. Part of her wanted to flip him over and ride him into the sunset but another part, the small remaining rational sliver of herself, knew she needed to tell him they were unprotected.

            But as his hips resumed their slow rocking against hers, the iron bar of his cock against her hypersensitized clit made it impossible for her to care. God, the feeling of his arousal leaking and pooling on her abdomen made her pussy twitch. She couldn’t remember ever feeling him this aroused before.

            His hands wandered up her torso until they were gripped in her hair. J suddenly tore himself away, so he was seated on his heals at the foot of the bed. He looked up at her with a half-crazed expression. His cock was reddened and throbbing against his stomach. Judging by the rapid rise and fall of his chest, he was just as desperate she was.

            “We need protection,” J gasped,  “I think our condoms are expired.” Harley looked up at him with big, shocked eyes.

            "You- you…” She stammered before trailing off.

            “I know.” He said in a solemn voice. Harley didn’t know what to say. He knew about the Bumplets. He knew what Batsy had done. She didn’t think he knew what Griggs had done. If he knew, Griggs would be substantially more dead. Memories of Griggs and the beatings flashed before her eyes. The puddles of blood. The pain. The sound of her screams echoing through the prison.

            “Are we gonna talk about that or are we gonna have fun?” She asked with a bitter laugh, trying to ignore the images her mind thrust at her.

            “We are talking about that later.” He growled dangerously before crushing his lips back to hers. The two rapidly dissolved into a battle of teeth and tongue and wandering hands that groped and grabbed anything they could reach.

            “Later.” She gasped into his mouth.

            "Much later.” He responded with an angry chuckle. “We still need protection.”

            “It doesn’t matter,” she whined, “I’ll take Plan B after.” Harley gasped against his lips as her hips clamored against his.

            “Are you sure?” He said in a voice akin to begging.

            “95.8% sure.”  She whimpered with a slight laugh in her voice. She hated that she still knew its efficacy rate from life as Harleen. She couldn’t wait for those memories to fade. J got up from bed and grabbed his phone and quickly texted Slappy telling him to pick some up before tackling Harley to the bed.

            “I’ll take those odds.” He growled with a smirk. “I want you,” He growled. Harley quirked and eyebrow.

            “I know.” She smiled back up at him. Of all the things she’d doubted about her Puddin’, his want had never been one of them. He’d wanted her since she was still Harleen.

            “I need you.” He said, pressing his lips against hers again and again. Without her noticing, one of his hands wandered down her chest to press against her windpipe. It wasn’t hard enough to block her breathing or even really hurt, but it did get her attention (and make her moan and her hips buck even harder against his). He looked at her with some kind of feral uncontrolled expression.. “All of you. No one will take you away from me again.” Harley felt dizzy with arousal and slight oxygen deprivation.

            “You’re mine Harley Quinn. Nothing else matters.” He growled, pressing his length against her.

            “I’m yours _and_ you’re mine. Nothing else matters.” She corrected in a vaguely threatening if slightly horse voice.

            “The Joker can’t be owned.” J chuckled hollowly.

            “No. But my Puddin’ can.” Harley responded dangerously. J froze for a moment in shock before removing his hand from her neck, weaving his fingers in her hair, and crushing her back to him.

            She wasn’t sure why she was laughing. Maybe it was because somewhere along the way of selling her soul to the devil the devil gave her his twisted soul. Maybe it was because only in this room, for brief flashes, the Joker was a man instead of an idea. Maybe because even though neither were really a person anymore, they were still people behind closed doors.

 

* * *

 

            J smirked to himself, rocking against her almost painfully hot core that was throbbing against his length. He removed his hand from her neck and braced himself over her form, trailing a hand down her and aligning his cock with her entrance. God, the feeling of her against him was like nothing else in the world. His face went slack with pleasure as he sunk his leaking tip into her.

            Harley’s head slammed against the pillows. She bit her lips around strangled groans. He couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or pain or something else entirely, but he felt like himself for the first time in months. No hallucination or dream had ever felt this real. His girl was really back. She was here with him. As long as that was true, everything was right in the world.

            It wasn’t just the emotional relief of finally sinking in to her that had him squeezing his eyes shut and panting through his nose. She was impossibly tight. And hot. And wet. And perfect. And his. J panted, trying to swallow back the wave of arousal that was threatening to crest over him. He focused on Harley’s face which had twisted with discomfort. While their time apart had him fighting not to come, it had her struggling to take his length. Her pussy twitched and spasmed around him as she slowly relaxed, allowing him to slide the remaining inches into her.

            “You feel like perfection.” J growled through clenched golden teeth. Had he forgotten how fucking amazing she felt? Or had fucking her just become such a part of his life that he’d been blinded to the surreal bliss of her body? Whatever the reason, he found himself unable to breath. It was like she was choking him out with her pussy.

            “Yes.” Harley hissed, pressing her forehead against his. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him, so their fronts were pressed together. She kissed him with all the pent-up rage, passion, confusion, and pain of the last six months and threw herself into the torrent of sensation that was ripping through their bodies. J did his best to keep up, kissing her back with all he had.

            J could barely think. He was just a ball of sensation and need. His thrusts were more slow rocking motions than anything else, not wanting to tire Harley out to early. The night was young, and they had quite a deficit to make up for. He reveled in her gasps and moans and the way her pussy twitched and flexed around him as it continued to stretch to accommodate him.

            “Puddin’, this is-” Harley gasped, her words trailing off as she hooked her legs over his hips and his tip pressed against a particularly sensitive spot inside of her.

            “Yes,” he growled in agreement, trying and failing to restrain the speed of his hips.

            “Love the way you feel inside of me” She grunted, jerking against him. J nodded in agreement against her neck where he’d buried his face. He nipped and sucked at her flesh, leaving a trail of bruises down the column of her neck. “Missed this so much.” She whimpered.

            “Missed you so much.” J grunted into her mouth, fighting not to come. He froze for a moment. He panted hard against her skin while battling the tingle in his balls that had pulled in tight to his body. The way her muscles stuttered around him made the breath catch in his throat.

            With a growl, he shifted to his knees between her thighs. Harley grinned up at him and pressed her feet into the bed and rose into a bridge. He thrusted shallowly and quickly between her thighs while she writhed against him. Her little grunts and gasps made J grind his teeth until he was sure he was turning his grill into a fine gold dust.

            “Yes, Puddin!” Harley giggled with a deranged grin. “Just like that, please!”

            “Is Daddy’s Little Monster going to come for him?” J purred, fighting a smile.

            “Please!” She cried again, slapping at the mattress with her hands. J moved his hands to the fleshy orbs of her bottom, feeling the way her muscles trembled with the strain of holding the position. Taking mercy on her he took some of her weight on his arms and pulled her harder and faster against him until his balls were slapping loudly against her. The cacophony of their movements echoed throughout their master suit, the sound of their bed slamming against the wall and the wet noises of their bodies moving against each other blended together with their grunts and cries.

            Harley bucked against J harder, rubbing her clit against his pubic bone as hard as she could in her position. Her hands wandered up to grip her white hair while her head tossed back and forth. J’s face twisted into a pleased leer looking down at his girl. She was so beautiful. So perfect. So feral.

         “More!” Harley shouted, tilting her pelvis so his tip would directly hit against her sweet spot.

         “Come for me, Harley.” J growled, dropping down on one arm so he was almost eye level with his girl. “Need to feel you.” His lips latched back to her throat to cover her in marks that would tell the world she was _his_.

         “I can feel you trembling against me. You’re so close that I can hear your pussy from here. You want to come, don’t you?” He purred into her ear. Talking helped distract him from the way she was strangling his cock and the delicious burn of her nails scratching down his back.

         “Unh!” She grunted inarticulately, her face going red. Her muscles clenched around his length going to stone and then relaxing and going to stone again.

         “You’re dripping all over the bed. You’re so close.” J laughed quietly, reveling in the moment. “Come for me, Little Monster. Daddy needs it.”

         “Puddin’!” Harley screamed. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her hips moved so forcefully against his that he almost lost his balance. If he’d pulled out, he would have seen her fluids gushing down onto the bed, but the view wasn’t worth it. Not when he could watch his girl’s face as she lost control and feel her soak his balls.

         “Puddin’,” she cooed, lowering her hips back to the now soaking bed. Silently thanking his luck for the brief respite, J lowered down on to his elbows. Holding out and not coming the second he was balls deep in her was difficult enough, holding out and thrusting through her orgasm was nearly fucking impossible. Harley looked up at him with a big dopey grin. If didn’t know better, he would have thought she was stoned. J slowed his hips to pulse gently against hers, allowing her to recover between climaxes. He distractedly traced the bruises he’d left across her neck and chest while she panted under his ears.

         “Come here,” Harley purred, pressing her lips to J’s. Her lips danced against his and her tongue dared him to tangle in a dance together. His hips began to build momentum again while she distracted him with her kisses. She was too damn good at that. Trying to ignore the tingle in his balls, J moved faster against Harley.

         “Good boy,” she giggled gently while wrapping her legs and arms around him. J laughed, unable to contain the foreign feelings bubbling up in him. If he had to guess it was something like joy. It was strange and terrifying, and he wasn’t sure he liked it, but he didn’t want it to stop. Harley ensnared him in her limbs, pulling him against her harder.

         J kissed her harder. God, he missed her. She was his whole fucking world and she was consuming him, and he never wanted it to stop. A broken groan escaped his lips. At first, when he felt the blissful rhythmic clenching of her walls around his cock he thought she was just approaching climax. But as it continued for minutes, he realized she was intentionally squeezing him.

         “Fuck, you’re killing me.” He groaned. “I won’t last if you keep that up.” Harley grinned up at him show each and every one of her unnaturally perfect teeth and continued to clench around him.

         “I don’t want you to last, I want you to come.” She growled, biting at his lips and neck. Her nails dug into the flesh of his back and scraped down to anchor in his ass. J grunted loudly. She knew what pain did to him. It shot a flinty spark of heat down his spine and made his cock twitch in warning.

         Without meaning to, his hips sped up until he was pounding against her. Harley’s back arched so her clit pressed firmly against his pubic bone while she tossed her head back and shouted. J could feel her leaking around his cock as she seemingly tried to snap it off with her muscles.

         "Fuck!” He shouted before pressing his lips back to hers. His balls were trying to crawl back inside of him. She felt to good. Too perfect.

         “Yes, Puddin!” She cried, her voice stripped of its usual teasing and humor. J stared down at her through the blurry haze of his approaching climax. She was a goddess or a demon below him. Her mouth open in a silent scream. Pink cheeks. Her tits bouncing violently behind a screen of blue and pink hair. Her tattoos in vibrant contrast to her bleached skin. Her nimble legs wound around his torso. Her pussy strangling his cock.

         “Pretty, pretty please! I’m so close.” she sobbed in pleasure before breaking off in strangled shout. J knew just what she needed. He needed it to.

            He pulled her legs from around his waist over his shoulders. Harley’s fingers wound into his hair forcing him to arch over her body to lock his lips with hers. Her hips baited him into a near violent, pounding rhythm. J braced a hand on the headboard to stop them from crashing into it with the force of his thrusts. Her muscles trembled around his and suddenly her arousing noises went silent in leu of a gasp. She was shaking and gushing around him, bucking wildly and staring sightlessly at his eyes.

         J was gone. The last of his restrain vaporized at the sight of his girl falling the fuck apart below him. He finally gave into the tightness he’d been fighting in his balls. In the last moments before his vision faded into a haze of pleasure and need, he ripped himself from between her legs and pumped his hand fast and hard around his cock.

         “Harely!” He gasped, thrusting into his fist until his cock throbbed jets of come across Harley's mons and lower abdomen. His vision was gone. His ears were ringing. All he could do was let the intense waves of pleasure that crashed into him pull him under. He could feel his seed pooling on her skin, the vague image of which made him groan against clenched teeth. The sight of her covered in his pearls, marked as his, heightened his pleasure and frenzied need for her.

         Harley played with his hair, panting happily. J was almost blinded by the joy that seemed to ooze from her sleepy grin. He couldn’t speak, too exhausted by pleasure and distracted by the thump of her heart. Instead he simply moved lower in bed and rested his head between her breasts crushed her to him. She held him closer like some kind of terrifying teddy bear and the two of them, for the first time in months, fell asleep peacefully.

* * *

 

         “I got a present for you, Baby Girl.” J whispered hours later, still holding Harley close.

         “You spoil me,” Harley giggled with a voice still scratchy from sleep while trying to summon the will to get out of bed to see whatever it was he’d gotten her. She didn’t want to leave her Puddin’.

         She’d only left bed to let Slappy into their living room and take plan B then had dove back into bed armed with new non-expired condoms for god knows how many more rounds with her man. She didn’t want any daylight between her and her Puddin’. She was in a state of shock. Her dead lover had come back from the grave to save her. Nothing made sense. Maybe she’d finally lost it. Maybe that was for the best. But she couldn’t let go of him, he might disappear.

         “Well, my dear, we both know that getting away is only half the game.” J growled dangerously while playing with Harley’s hair. “That only teaches them that you can get away, it doesn’t teach them who is in charge. And you didn’t get to say good bye which seems like a real shame.”

         Harley nodded, afraid where this was going but trying to keep the dazed happy look on her face. If he was about to give her the people who kept her captive, she wouldn’t be able to keep her poker face. He clearly knew about the Bumplets, but he didn’t know how that particular storyline ended. He had no idea what the men in prison had done. What Griggs had ordered them to do.

         “Who am I gonna get to chat with?” She said in a falsely cheery voice.

         “Well I got five of your old guards and my special man, Griggs for you to play with. Let’s go visit our friends.” J smiled dangerously; his eyes empty of any feeling. Harley felt herself go cold when he said Griggs’ name. The warmth she’d generated between her and her Puddin’ the last hours left her body and mind. When her Puddin’ saw just what she was going to do to these men, he would know they hurt her really, really bad. It would open her up for all kinds of questions she didn’t want to answer. Harley dressed robotically, barely noticing the clothing she put on or the makeup she smeared onto her face. Her mind was miles away in a cell in Belle Reave.

         “What room?” Asked Harley in a vacant voice.

         “Only the biggest play room for my girl,” J laughed sounding completely deranged. Harley walked away without looking to see if J followed her down to the room. She flipped the lights on and saw the six men duct taped to chairs. She looked up to see if the metal rings she had ordered installed in the walls were still there.

         They were.

         “Cuff all but the last one on the right to the wall.” Harley said flatly to the henchmen who’d been watching her newest playmates. This time the guards would be her punching bags. “Make sure the one in the chair has a good view.” She added without turning around.

         She didn’t have big plans for the guards. They would die quickly. They were just sadists who enjoyed their jobs a little too much. Nothing special. Griggs, however, would pay.

         If the guards had been women, she would have gone full Jack the Ripper and cut out their wombs out. But they weren’t and that would have been too much work. Instead, she selected several knifes from their chest of toys and walked down the line of terrified human punching bags and disemboweled them one after another. She didn’t stay to watch or enjoy their deaths; they were just collateral damage for her real goal.

* * *

         J was somewhat confused and disappointed. Her reaction to his gift wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic as he had expected. Her eyes were too hollow, too dead, to make her happy act convincing. Harley didn’t typically kill her toys so quickly (there was no real fun in that). While he admired her sadistic knife work, it didn’t sit right.

         He half expected her to give Griggs the same treatment as the other guards and storm out of the room. If he was a betting man, he would have thought she would have given him the quickest death and had her fun with the others. Joker had way too much collateral on Griggs for him to do anything to Harley. 

* * *

         “Everyone who’s not Puddin’ or currently chained and or duct taped to something, get out.” She growled. The henchmen fled from the room, giving Harley a respectful nod as they filed by. She didn’t notice. She was too busy staring at Griggs.

         “Griggsy, Griggsy, Griggsy. How the tables have turned?” She giggled in a sickeningly sweet voice. Griggs thrashed his head back and forth, screaming muffled words from under his duct tape gag.

          “Oh, no, no, sweetie. I’m not gonna kill you like them. Your belly is gonna come out of this just fine. You deserve so much more after what you took from us.” She dropped her hunting knife to the floor with a loud clatter.

         Harley stalked over to Griggs, turning his face this way and that. He was pale and clammy. His eyes were full of panic. Good. She lowered herself into his lap, straddling him while running a flaying knife up and down his cheek.

         “Do you remember what you told me you’d do if I kept acting up?” She crooned. Griggs looked around frantically, as if someone would burst through the door any minute to save him. What an idiot. No one was going to save him. He’d taken too much from her for her to let him get away. Harley drew a hand back and slapped him hard across the face and forced him to look at her.

         “Focus. I’m the only one in this room that matters to you right now, cupcake. Look at me! Do you remember what you said?” She demanded in a vicious voice that had lost all levity. Griggs somehow went paler and shook his head violently.

         “No? Are you that stupid? Or you just don’t feel like talking?” Harley laughed bitterly, running a finger over his duct taped mouth. Harley’s face went completely blank as she repeated the words he'd said to her that fateful day so many months ago in an even, empty voice.

         “Do you know how hard it is to keep you alive, particularly since I don’t want to?” Her knife wandered down his face to his chest where she sliced a single cut from sternum to belly.

         “What I want is to hand you over to my guards and let them fuck you bloody and kill you slowly. You bitch. Maybe I’ll let them have you anyway.” She continued in a growl, cutting two new incisions from the top of the first cut out to each of his shoulders with her knife.

            “Cuff her. Leave her alive. Other than that, she’s all yours boys.” Harley got up, pushing him away violently, knocking the chair he’d been taped to over. His head bounced off the concrete floor stunning him. She paced violently over to the toy box and removed several larger knives.

            “Do you remember what happened next? Or did you decide to forget that to?” She demanded with a truly vicious tone. “Do you remember what their beatings did?” Harley removed several hand cuffs with large chains from the toy box. She cut the tape of off each of his limbs and secured them to metal rings on the floor one by one, so he was restrained in an X position on the floor. Harley climbed over him, so she was hovering above his torso with her knife doodling methodical incisions on his chest and arms.

            “Do remember what you told me after? Once you realized just what you’d done. You threatened me. Said that if you told my Puddin’ what you knew he’d leave me to die in prison. Remember that?” She laughed cruelly before pulling a knife out from her cleavage and stabbing it to the hilt into his shoulder where his humerus and clavicle met.

            “No?” She asked the screaming man beneath her, not expecting an answer. “Well, what about this. Do you remember the first time we met? I offered to show you just what kind of creative fun I was good at. You refused but now you’re a captive audience. Aren’t you?” She laughed over Griggs’ muffled screams, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

 

* * *

            Joker tilted his head curiously from his perch in a chair in the corner of their playroom. It took him a few minutes to realize just what Harley was doing. She didn’t have a particularly long attention span and would often start more… advanced torture techniques before getting bored and just beating her plaything to death. He’d never seen her skin someone before. This promised to be interesting. Any other day Joker would have found it arousing. But something about the dead, glazed look in her eyes made him feel... wrong.

            He watched with a kind of hypnotic horror as Harley stalked her prey. J felt sick. He thought his little pawn would behave for his Queen but clearly that had not been the case. He’d never seen Harley’s rage this focused or dangerous. He couldn't pin down exactly what Griggs had done to his girl, but what he could infer from what Harley had said was very, very bad. It made him feel like he needed to go kill someone (although that wasn’t exactly an atypical emotion).

            She was still speaking but it was impossible to hear what she said over the man’s tortured screams. Grigg’s initial shouts eventually faded as he went into shock over the next hour, allowing J to overhear bits pieces of sentences that Harley was whispering that didn’t quite make sense.

            When she made her the deep cut from crotch to chin, he could dimly hear her cooing something about spring break.

            When she cut him from ankle to groin, she was muttering about how her Puddin’ was coming for her no matter what.

            When she began to slide her knife under her main cuts to detach the skin from his torso, Griggs had gone silent. She kept repeating “Ooh, Griggsy I don’t think you’re supposed to be bleeding like that. Isn’t’ that ironic?” in a truly vicious tone.

            When she finally worked her way up to his face, Griggs was barely conscious. Joker was impressed by how careful Harley was being, how much work she was putting in to her little toy. It made him smile to see she hadn’t been declawed or made meek by her captors. But at the same time, he felt sick. Something had gone horribly, horribly wrong. He wasn’t sure exactly what Griggs and the other men had done to her, but he already knew it was going to make him homicidal in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever been before.

            Griggs was still alive when Harley finished skinning him, but she didn’t seem to notice. She just sat next to the two piles of flesh and stared at the wall blankly. After several minutes J leaned down and picked her up to bring her back to their bedroom. J needed to know what happened but didn’t have the first clue how to find out. Harley seemed to perk up a little when he busied himself washing the blood and gore off of her but didn’t say anything. He couldn’t tell if she noticed when he placed her back in their bed, but she curled up on his chest, giving him some hope.

         J couldn’t take the silence any longer. He’d remained passive for an hour waiting for her to tell him what the fuck was going on, watching her play with her toys. He couldn’t keep quiet any longer. All he wanted was to ask her what the fuck had happened between her and Griggs. But he was worried that if he asked too soon her mind would spiral away to where ever it went when it needed to protect itself and he’d be left waiting even longer for answers.

         “Why didn’t you play with the guards? I thought they’d be fun little chew toys.” J asked, trying to keep his voice light and playful.

         “They were nothing special.” Harley said in a distant, cold voice. “They just did whatever Griggs told them to or I baited them into doing. They beat me, tried to fuck me, shouted at me. Nothing funny or even a little creative. They had to die for what they did but they didn’t deserve a funny death.” She laughed dangerously.

         “So, Griggs stole all your attention? How dare you play favorites, Miss Quinn.” J tried to laugh, fucking furious.

         “He knows what he did to earn it.” Harley said in a tone that allowed no room for disagreement or debate. J stared at his manipulative Little Monster. She was a wonderful liar but was terrible at fooling or keeping secrets from him. This time, however, he had no idea what she wasn’t telling him. Which didn’t bode well. The last thing she didn’t want to tell him was that she’d been pregnant. He couldn’t imagine what would be worse than that.

         Joker was used to Harley talking to people only she could hear and floating away sometimes, but she didn’t normally act like this. If Harleen was still around she would have called it traumatized. But his girl was fucking invincible. Harley had her arms wrapped around herself, the nails of her left hand digging into the skin of her lower stomach hard enough to make four little puncture wounds. Snapping out of his thoughts, J grabbed her hands and placed them on his face under his hands where she couldn’t hurt herself.  

         “Harley, you’ve always been crazy. I’m crazy, you’re crazy blah, blah, blah. But this is different, you’ve never been this quiet and how you killed Griggs- which was beautiful by the way- I’ve never seen you like this.” J growled, knowing his voice was slipping into his Club-Voice rather than his Home-Voice.

         “I…” Harley shook her head, “Most of what they did wasn’t anything special. Nothing new. Nothing that would have bothered me. But Griggs… he did something very bad Pudidn’. Please don't be mad at me.” She trailed off, her voice stopping with a slight choking noise.

         “Tell me.” J growled, loosing what was left of his (albeit limited) patience. He was already furious. Not at her, but at someone. Something. He wasn’t sure. But he wanted to rip out someone’s throat or carve them a new smile. The fact she was hiding something that she was too scared to tell him terrified him. When he got mad, she threw it back at him. She hadn’t been scared of his anger since she was wearing a lab coat and he was wearing Arkham’s finest.

         “Tell Daddy. Pretty, pretty, pretty please.” He was too busy staring at her eyes trying to figure out if she was going to tell him the truth to notice that she flinched when he said ‘daddy.’

         “They…” Harley started, pausing as her eyes went glossy and far away. She got off of his lap and curled into a ball on her side facing the wall. “They took our Bumplets Puddin’.”

         “What’s a Bumplet?” He asked, trying to figure out if she made up the word, if he had just never heard it, or if she was having a break with reality. He’d done it a few times and hadn’t particularly enjoyed the experience.

         Harley closed her eyes, resting her hand over her flat belly, letting her mind drift away while she explained so she wouldn’t have to listen.

         “Griggs and me didn’t get along. He killed our Bumplets, but don’t worry Puddin’ he paid for it. It was very messy but, for him, I’d do it to again and again.” She said, giggling in a terrifyingly toneless voice.

           “Harley, focus. Tell me what a Bumplet is.” He all but growled, wondering if she could hear him.

           “Griggs got creative. He was mad because I kept killing the guards, you would have been so proud Puddin’. I killed a couple a week for a while. Griggs told me he needed to make sure he and his men were in top form if I tried anything. He had them hang me from the bars of my cage by my arms and so I could be their punching bag.”

           “Harley?” J asked after she was silent for several minutes. His mind was racing with potential horrible things they could have done to her before she interrupted his thoughts.

            “I thought I was safe. Our little Bumplets survived me getting stabbed, the car crash and Batsy, and weeks at Belle Reave. I thought they would be okay. They were ours; they shouldn’t have been able to be hurt by boring little weaklings like Griggs’ men. They weren’t good enough to kill our Bumplets.” She paused again; her face completely blank. He felt sick. Furious. He could see where the story was going, and he didn’t like it.

            “Harley, keep talking. They hit you and what happened?” Joker asked again, swallowing back bile. He should have killed Griggs himself. Should have tortured him until he was too terrified not to follow instructions to the T. He had just assumed that his spy was too scared of the Joker not to do anything stupid. He’d been very, very wrong.

            “It took them forever to get bored. But I wasn’t supposed to be bleeding like that anymore, Puddin’.” She said, her eyes squeezed shut and her jaw clenched and trembling. Her words hit him like a physical blow as he tried to think something, anything, he could say.

            “My little Bumplets were gone. Griggs made them go away.” Harley whispered dreamily. “The blood soaked through my clothes so quick. I couldn’t not see it. This blood wasn’t funny, Puddin’. Not even a little. Once Griggs figured it out, he tried to convince me he did me a favor. That it was better this way. That you would have been so mad at me. Now you never needed to know. He said it was our little secret and said if I acted out too much, he’d tell you and you wouldn’t come get me.” Harley growled, her nails scraping her flat stomach, leaving behind long, deep scratches next to the four small gouges she’d already made.

            Moving with unnatural speed, J ripped Harley’s hands away from her abdomen. He pulled her into his lap, griping her wrists in each of his hands and holding them against her chest, nails facing away from her torso, where she couldn’t hurt herself.

            “No, let me go! Let me go,” Harley screamed, fighting J’s grip. “Don’t touch me!”

            “Harley! It’s me. You’re home. Everyone that hurt you is dead. You’re safe.” J said urgently, crushing her back against his chest. “It’s me.” He growled, trying to ignore the unfamiliar burning sensation in his eyes. He had never seen Harley like this.

            “Please don’t be mad, Mistah J. I didn’t mean to- it was an accident. I didn’t mean for the Bumplets to happen. I never it would have done it on purpose. I’m sorry Mistah J.” She said emptily while looking like she was bracing herself to get hit. He’d never seen her look at anyone like that before and decided he hated it.

            “I know,” he started, trailing off with no idea of what he was going to say or how to fix this. “I got you as fast as I could and I’m fucking furious it took so long. I will always come get you Harley Quinn, no matter what.”

            They sat in silence a long time. Harley twisted in his grip, so the side of her face rested on his bicep and shoulder. His shirt was going to be ruined by her tears, but he refused to move to take it off. He chose not to think about the odd wetness he felt on his face and was thankful Harley wasn’t lucid enough to notice.

            “I was going to tell you about them the night I was taken. I should have told you.” Harley said bitterly, starting to sound slightly coherent.

            “Them?” J asked, his voice rough, almost too overwhelmed to be surprised anymore.

            “Two little Bumplets.” Harley said, tears occasionally slipping down her cheeks, but she was increasingly alert. “The Enchantress showed me a different version of the future. I was making breakfast and it was actually morning out. I think we had a house. You were there, alive. We looked different, boring, but we were together. She showed me our little Bumplets. They looked like you Puddin’ only they had eyebrows, boring skin, and my old hair.”

            “Harley- I…” J couldn’t think of anything to say in response to that. Her ideal alternate reality that was so normal, so different than what they had now, wasn’t something he could give her. That had never been an option for The Joker and never would be.

            “Normally I’d laugh and say this was some fucked up cosmic joke but....” He trailed off, his voice sounding oddly hollow. The two sat in silence for a long time, Harley calming down as J’s mind seemed to drift further and further away. 

* * *

            “Oh puddin’,” Harley exclaimed, seemingly just noticing J’s uneven breathing and his shaking hands. She removed herself from his lap and pulled J to lie on the bed with her. His head rested between her breasts and her fingers carded through his hair.

            “I love you. So, so much” She said, weaving her legs through his. “The Enchantress showed me… something different, but I could live my whole life exactly like the years before I was taken, and I’d be luckiest god damned woman in the world- let alone Gotham.”

            “I can’t give you what she showed you.” He whispered against her skin, sounding like he could barely get the words out. Harley’s heart felt like it was breaking all over again. She couldn’t stop the tears that prickled in the back of her eyes as grabbed J’s jaw to force him to look at her.

            “I knew that when I fell in love with you. When I said I would live for you I told the world to go fuck itself and gave up on whatever plan I thought I had. It kills me that Griggs…” she paused, swallowing roughly. “That hurt isn’t going away. But I still have you, as long as I have you, I have everything I need.” She eventually finished. J flinched away, unwilling or unable to believe her.

            “Don’t look away!” She whispered, curling her fingers painfully in his hair. “She only showed me two things that I want that I don’t already have. One, I wish the Bumplets weren’t such a terrible fucking idea and two…” Harley trailed off, not feeling confident enough to finish her sentence and tell him that they had gotten married in her fantasy. That would revel embarrassing parts of herself she knew he would reject. She'd tell him eventually, just not tonight when they were both so raw. No more secrets. They ended too badly.

            “How long had you known?” He interrupted.

            “What?” She asked, confused and slightly relieved by the turn the conversation had taken.

            “How long had you known you were pregnant?”

            “Two weeks.” She confessed in a meek voice.

            “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He asked looking at her like she’d just slapped him (and not in a funny or sexy way).

            “I was being stupid and hoping the problem would go away if I ignored it. There were two ways our conversation could have gone Puddin’. I hated both of them and didn’t want to have it.” She took a deep breath, sounding more scared than she had been since her first night at the hideout.

            "Tell me.” He growled.

            “Ok, Pudin’, ok.” She took a deep breath, “number one was never going to happen but you could have wanted to keep them. If ya did I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. I would have gone through with having them, which would have been the most selfish, fucked up thing I’d ever done. And that is saying something.” She stared at him, trying to get any idea of what he was thinking. But he was blank.

            “Option two, which was obviously what was going to happen, you didn’t want them. I stopped pretending they would have done anything other than ruin our life and we got rid of them. A small part of me did want them but I _never_ would have chosen for them to happen. Once it was an option, though, it was hard to walk away.” Harley tried to keep her voice strong and level, as if she was explaining simple logic, which she supposed she was. It just didn’t feel that way.

 

* * *

             J wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Some anger at Harley for not telling him sooner. A lot of anger at Griggs for ordering the men to hurt her. Confusion that he wasn’t sure what he wanted. Sadness for reasons he couldn’t really identify. The only person he mourned was Harley when she was taken but that had been different. All he could see was a reality that Harley, to some degree, still wanted that he couldn’t give her and a choice that Grigg’s had killed.

            He thought Harley trusted him, that she loved him. He was part of her perfect world, that must mean something.

* * *

            Harley could see J slipping away into his head. He did it from time to time, but only from dreams he could never remember. She wiggled down the bed until she was eye level with her Puddin’ and rested her forehead against his as if she could somehow make him see her thoughts and believe her.

            “I wasn’t _really_ thinking about babies before the Bumplets. Our first two years together were best two years of my life and the rest of our years together are going to be the exact same; I didn’t and still don't want for a damn thing. I was so fucking happy I didn’t know what to do with myself.” She laughed. “I was terrified about the Bumplets. Wanted to kill Batsy for putting me in that position. I didn’t want to be slowed down by some stupid collection of cells that were about to ruin everything. I loved our life, just me and you against the world. I didn’t want anything to change.” She took a deep breath trying to keep her voice steady.

            “What the fuck would we have even have done with the Bumplets? I sure wasn’t going to stay behind and play house until they were big enough to come to the club. And how would we would we explain the whole ‘we kill people for fun’ thing? They would have turned out even more fucked up than us. Besides, you don’t like people except me and if you didn’t like them that would be all kinds of bad.” Harley paused, trying to see if any of it was getting through to him.

            He was staring blankly at her with a twisted look on his face that she didn’t recognize. After several minutes of painful silence, it became clear he wasn’t going to respond.

            “People like me don’t get babies. It hurts,” she added quietly, “but as long as I have my Puddin’ I don’t need anything else.”

            “None of that would be true if I had just left you alone.” He said, staring blankly at ceiling.

             “I’m glad you didn’t leave me alone.” She said automatically, surprised he seemed to be questioning his choice.

            “You shouldn’t have to pick.” He whispered in a voice that carried a heavy emotion she couldn’t identify.

            “I’d pick the same thing every time.” She responded, willing him to believe her.

            “You shouldn’t have to.” He repeated, stuck in some loop in his head. His pale lips were pursed in a line with his bottom lip and jaw tensing sporadically. The lines under his eyes and above where his eyebrows should be were deep and tense. His eyes were blurry, bloodshot. She'd never seen his eyes look like that while he was sober before.

            “I love you. Nothing is going to change that. I am sad about the Bumplets, but they never should have happened. They were ours and now they are gone. That doesn’t mean I would change anything about loving you.” Harley said, hoping he would understand her from where ever he was drifting. 

            When he said nothing, Harley was suddenly struck with a deep anxiety she hadn’t thought about since her first months in their candy factory hide out.

            “I love you Puddin’,” she whispered in a very small voice, “please don’t make me leave.” Her voice seemed to shock him out of where ever his mind had wondered.

            “Oh, Harley,” he laughed bitterly, “don’t you know I’m too selfish to let you go?”

            “J-” Harley started before being interrupted.

            “I need you. I…” he paused, burying his head in her neck, “I love you.” Harley was stunned speechless and just wrapped her arms around his neck, refusing to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you think of the reunion? This was difficult one to write, not emotionally in the way the last few were, but hard for me to piece together how the two would interact after such a traumatic time apart. I'm sorry last week's posts didn't have any lemons, hopefully this week made up for that.  
> Let me know what you think of this weekend chapter in the comments below...


	12. Burn It Down, Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a few minutes the restless feeling that intermittently bubbled up in her chest since she’d returned from Belle Reave began to churn inside of her. “Puddin’ I need…” she began, unsure what it was she was asking for but knowing she needed something.  
> “Let’s go. We got things to burn and our friendly neighborhood bat to piss off” He said. Harley smiled back up at him, sometimes she forgot just how many times he’d been incarcerated. He knew just how badly she needed to go do something, destroy someone, and prove that she was free.  
> She got up and walked over to their closet, to find just the right outfit. The news would be seeing her, and the Queen had a show to put on. She let herself melt into Harley, pushing away the parts of her that were still Harleen. Who needed pain when the world was so funny? It was all some dark joke that only she and her Puddin’ could see.Gotham needed its’ Queen and its’ Queen needed to have a little fun.  
> “Ready to turn some frowns upside down?” Harley laughed with a disturbing grin, sliding her guns into their holsters, before pressing a kiss to his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, how are we doing? I can't believe we're almost at the end- just one chapter left! I personally really like this chapter, a little bit of readjustment back to normal (well, their fucked up version of normal) life for our couple while they continue to cope with the after effects of imprisonment. I know that this story hasn't been safe for work, but this chapter *ahem* is very, very NSFW.
> 
> Songs: Primadona- Marina and the Diamons; Nothing Matters Without You - Ive Levan; Kiss It- Dorothy

      Weeks went by and things returned to something close to normal. Not exactly as they were before, neither was sure how long that would take, but close enough. She still had nightmares that woke her up gasping for breath and needing to carve someone apart. But they came less and less often. That didn’t stop J from sitting up most of the day while she slept, waiting to shake Harley awake when her whimpers and snarls picked up. He spent his hours watching her trying to identify the feelings he had when hearing about ‘Bumplets’ and The Enchantress. He still wasn’t sure exactly what they were.

      A month after the breakout, it seemed every fed and police officer in the country was looking for Harley- and she loved it. It was nice having so much attention paid to her. While J wasn’t typically good at sharing the spotlight, Harley was his exception. Seeing her pictures plastered all over the news and on posters offering rewards was a delight. He’d known just what kind of a monster he’d been living with for years and it was hilarious to watch Gotham, seemingly in real time, figure it out. They were slow, but they got there eventually.

* * *

 

      Harley was humming to herself flipping this way and that on her silks. She’d missed this. It was so nice to be able to have fun without having to keep up her charade for the watching guards. She was just coming out of a flip when she noticed a man march by the door way. There was only one man in the hideout who managed to be both so boring and so not-dead.

      “Frosty!” Harley called, hanging upside down on her silks.

      “Yes, Miss Quinn?”

      “Come in here for a sec!” She said, rolling downwards until she was suspended just feet off the ground in a full split. Frost stood at attention by the door, not entering until she told him to.

      “Any news on Waller?” Harley asked with a giggle that they could both tell was forced.

      “We’ve got eyes on her. She’s well-guarded and seems to have collateral on everyone. It will take some time, but she’s pissed off enough people that we’ll find an angle.” Frost said with a grim nod.

      “How long is eventually?” Harley asked trying to keep her voice steady.

      “We’ll get her, Miss. Quinn, I promise.” He said slowly.

      “How. Long.”

      “About two months.” He admitted refusing to look her in the eye.

      “I want her head on a platter and I want to serve it to the flying rat.”

      “You’ll have it.” Frost promised firmly with no hint of reservation or deception in his voice. Harley paused, looking at him critically as if she was trying to puzzle out just who this ever-present side kick was.

      “Is it true you’re the one who made the deal with Flagg?” She asked eventually.

      “Yes.” He said solemnly. “I’m sorry it took so long, we’re all glad you’re back safe.” Harley barked out a laugh.

      “No- Slappy and Puddin’ are glad I’m back. The rest of them who knew me from before are shitting their pants and the new guys who don’t believe the stories are making fun of them.” Harley sneered while swinging back and forth from her impromptu seat.

      “True,” Frost laughed, half-heartedly.

      “Aww, no more flattery?” Harley joked with a sarcastic eye roll.

      “I am glad you’re back, Harley.” Frost said shifting on his feet uneasily.

      “Me to,” she responded with an unusually sincere smile. “Thanks for getting me back in one piece- more or less.” She didn’t particularly enjoy Frost; he was far too serious. But he was dependable, reliable, trustworthy. He was a good man to have around and she had no interest in killing him.

      “Of course.” He said with a quick nod. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

      “Nope.” She laughed before waving him off dismissively. “Go away.”

      “Yes, Miss Quinn.” He nodded with a grim smile before quickly leaving her gym.

      Harley smiled and flipped back up her silks. It was good to be back. Telling people what to do and how to do it. Knowing no one could touch her without her permission. Being able to get what she needed or wanted when she needed or wanted it. It was good to be in charge.

      She held herself parallel to the floor, spinning rapidly and watching the light flicker and reflect off of her jewelry. It was good have her clothes back. Stupid little things she didn’t know she missed until she couldn’t have them. Gifts from her Puddin’, things she’d bought with Jemma, things she’d stolen with Slappy.

      She was startled from her day dream when someone walked into her gym. Only one person would have the balls to walk into her space without asking permission or at least announcing themselves, Harley thought with a smile.

      “Puddin’?” She asked, shaking her head to clear the dizzy fog that had filled it. It was good to be Queen, but it was perfection to be _his_ Queen.

      “The one and only.”

      “Are you all done with your work for the day?”

      “Mhm,” he growled approvingly, “does Daddy’s Little Monster have time to play?”

      “Only always, Puddin’.” She giggled back, flipping to the ground.

      “Well I got grape soda on ice and some nose candy waiting for us on top of a lover’s lane with an excellent view of some souped-up fireworks waiting just for you.”

      “How romantic,” Harley swooned, launching herself at J and kissing him soundly. She eventually pulled away and looked down at her sweaty sports bra and leggings with a wrinkled nose. “Let me go shower and put on something more fitting for the occasion.”

      “So, nothing at all?”

      “Puddin’!” Harley shrieked, batting him in the chest and skipping off to their apartment before freezing half way down the hall and looking at him over her shoulder saucily, “You coming or not?”

      “Oh, I better be.” He laughed, stripping off his shirt and following after her.

 

* * *

      

      Harley was sprawled out on top of J on the large chair behind his desk, her legs on either side of his hips and her face burrowed into his neck. She was naked save a pair of knee-high socks and the unbuttoned dress shirt J had been wearing the night before. J was still wearing most of his clothes, except for his shirt which Harley had commandeered. The two passed a blunt back and forth while looking over a map of Gotham and stacks of frantically written notes they had made while buzzed on coke the night before.

      The street map had a large layer of tracing paper taped on top of it with several large sketches of cursive J’s and H’s. It had obviously been slid around and redrawn several times as the two playfully argued over best fit lines. They’d eventually agreed on a seven by fifteen block stretch where their initials could be traced onto the grid the streets created almost perfectly.

      “Were you thinking explosions or just good old-fashioned fire?” Harley murmured, tapping the ashes of their blunt over his shoulder into a golden ash tray that rested his desk. She’d given up trying to read her hand writing an hour ago and had curled up in her Puddin’s lap while he tried to reconstruct their plans from the night before. J was stubbornly insisting he could read it but kept getting distracted by the stoned Little Monster in his lap. He wouldn’t admit it (and if he ever accidentally did, he would insist it was only because of the drugs in his system), but her skin pressed against his felt as close to heaven as he’d ever get.

      “As much fun as making Gotham go boom is, it wouldn’t look as pretty from the air.” J chuckled darkly while jotting down the names of the segments of streets they would be lighting up with his free hand. They had already done that the night before but Harley’s doctor hand writing made it impossible to read. All though, J conceded, Dr. Quinzell had annoyingly neat hand writing. But he’d never seen the good doctor try to write while on coke so maybe it was just a symptom of the drugs not her previous occupation.

      “That’s true,” hummed Harley, pressing a distractingly (and disgustingly) sweet kiss to his chest. “So, what? We just have the goons drive around pouring gasoline and drop a match?”

      “Something like that,” J smirked absentmindedly. He’d almost forgotten how much he enjoyed brainstorming with his girl. It had always been such a fiercely solitary act before her that he’d slipped back into doing it alone with relative ease when she was taken from him. But now that she was back, Gotham would pay for kidnapping its’ Queen and the royalty would sit back and enjoy the chaos.

      “Can we add a heart?” Harley giggled, suddenly perking up from her daze.

      “Hmm?” He asked lazily, trailing his fingertips down Harley’s back. She sat up right making his eyes wander from the map of Gotham back to her. Of course, his eyes were immediately distracted by the swells of her breasts just barely concealed by the shirt and her hair. Harley giggled, noting his distraction and pulled the shirt closed so he would focus on her. J growled in response and pushed it all the way open, making Harley laugh.

      “I like the idea of having our initials burnt into Gotham, blah, blah show them whose boss, blah, blah, brand them with our names, whatever- but could we put it inside of a heart? Like this!” Harley giggled before lifting the hem of J’s dress shirt to show off one of her many jailhouse tattoos. It was a greyish heart with ‘J+H’ written inside of it and an arrow through it. J wrinkled his nose; it was entirely too cutesy.

      “Come on!” Harley squealed, “It’s _my_ welcome back prank!” J grumbled to himself. It was too sweet. People wouldn’t fear The Joker if it looked like he was getting soft.

      “It doesn’t make you look soft if we kill a whole lot of people!” Harley protested, poking him in the stomach.

      “How did you know that was my objection?” J growled. He grabbed her hand that was poking him and nipped at her fingers.

      “Because I know you.” Harley quipped, sticking her tongue out at him. “Besides, people will attribute it to both of us and I’m known for being sweet as can be.” She said, fluttering her eye lashes at him with her best innocent expression. She was able to hold that face for all of ten seconds before the two of them burst out in laughter.

      “Fine, but you owe me.” J eventually relented. She was right. If enough people burned it wouldn’t matter how cutesy it was. In fact, the cutesy-ness might make it even more disturbing.

      “Oh, and what does my King want?” Harley purred. J smirked; she was good at bargaining but hadn’t yet learned not to make deals with the devil.

      “Hmm, your King will have to think that over.” His fingers traced up the tattoo she wanted to burn into Gotham. “Did you do this one?”

      “Yup, I think I was stuck in Arkham overnight and got bored.” She smiled. He wasn’t sure which time she’d done it, but it was fairly easy to break each other out of Arkham and it was always very, very fun. Especially the time she’d worn a Harleen costume… J shook his head to clear his mind and looked critically at the piece.

      “It’s looking a little grey.”

      “I’m pretty sure I did it with a broken pen and an earring so that isn’t surprising.” Harley snorted. J smiled toothily; it had been too long since he’d done any work on his Little Monster.

      “Want me to redo it?”

****

* * *

****

      Harley bounced out of his lap and practically dragged him back to their living room where she flopped onto the couch. He sat before her on the floor between her parted knees and got to work redoing her many, many jailhouse tattoos.

      J was tracing her various hearts, hash marks, ‘Puddin’s,’ and sets of initials but she couldn’t keep her jealous eyes off of his latest tattoo. Yes, she loved their two portrait cards staring at each other on his back. They looked perfect together. But she hated that some woman had touched J while she wasn’t there to watch. J had told her she was being ridiculous, of course there had been nothing sexual or even sensual about getting it done. But still.

      “Did you leave the lady who did the portrait tattoo alive?” Harley asked absently, playing with his hair while he worked on a cluster of tattoos on her thigh.

      “Yes, I thought you might want to get something done by her once I busted you out.” He responded without looking up.

      “Aren’t you sweet. I want to get a copy of the one you have.”

      “Text Slappy, he knows where to find her. You could probably get it done tonight if you wanted.”

      “Ok. Do we have any open play rooms?” Harley asked in her best innocent voice.

      “Yes.” He said with a smirk and what would have been a raised eyebrow if he had any.

      “Good.” Harley said with a note of finality. There. No reason to be jealous. She could get the tattoo she wanted so she wouldn’t be jealous of J’s and she could kill the lady who did it so she wouldn’t be jealous of another woman. Perfect.

       “You are aware I didn’t and had no interest in fucking her, yes?” J stopped tattooing her for a moment and looked up at her.

      “Yup.” Harley rolled her eyes; he just didn’t get it. It wasn’t that she thought that her presence was the only thing that stopped J from fucking the people who tattooed him. While whenever one of them tattooed the other it always ended in frantic sex, that wasn’t the case for either of them with other artists. But still. He was her Clown and she didn’t want anyone else touching or marking him. She was almost OK with it if she could watch the artist work, but having a woman lay hands on J when she’d been forcibly taken away from her Puddin’ was never ever going to be alright with her.

       “Then why do you want the tattoo artist dead?”

      “Because she touched you and you are mine.” Harley said, looking at J like he was being an idiot.

      “You’re crazy, you know, that right?” J asked laughing so hard he had to put down the tattoo gun.

      “…Yes?”

 

* * *

 

 

      J shifted in his seat trying to conceal his erection. He loved marking Harley, no matter how it was done. While this time someone else’s hands marked her skin, it was still his image. Yes, he would have preferred to do it himself. But even he knew that he didn’t have the portrait skills for it. So, instead, he sat with Harley’s head resting in his lap while the tattoo artist worked. The process of transferring the design to her sternum was hypnotic, doubly so when the artist began working on the scroll that read “kneel” underneath the two face cards which made Harley’s breasts jiggle viciously. By the time the artist had completed their two face cards, one on each side of Harley’s lower sternum, J worried that his cock was going to burst through his fly at any moment.

      He also now understood why the artist needed to die. No one who saw his girl like this, no matter how professionally, needed to die. It took quite some time to finish. Portraits always did. But the results spoke for themselves.

      As soon as the woman put down the gun for the final time, J signaled for one of the henchmen that he had ordered to stand threateningly by the door to grab her. Normally he would have done it himself, but he was rather preoccupied. J adjusted himself discreetly to try and minimize the number of people who were getting an eyeful of just what Harley was begging for every night.

      The second the screaming artist was hauled out of their apartment, J seized Harley’s arm and rolled her over in his lap. He had absently wondered if she was as aroused as he was during the tattooing process. Her dark eyes and heavy breathing answered that question with a resounding yes.

      “Did you like that Harley?” He asked with a knowing smirk. She didn’t answer with words, just a soundless nod and a heated kiss to his chest.

      “Which part did you like better?” He growled, “getting our faces marked on your skin or feeling how much I liked it?”

      “Both,” she purred, pushing herself off the couch and unbuttoning his pants with reckless abandon.

      “Did Daddy’s Little Monster get wet from feeling his cock get hard for her?”

      “Yes, she did.” She giggled. J locked his fingers in her hair. He wasn’t sure where he had planned on the night taking them, he had figured they would go out and have some fun. But right now, the throbbing sticky mess in his trousers rather urgently demanded a change in plans.

      Harley pulled his pants down to his ankles and settled on the floor on her knees. She paused looking up at him with big falsely innocent eyes.

      “That’s how it’s going to be? Are you teasing me tonight?” He laughed in a gravelly voice.

      “Tell me what you want.”

      “Take my cock out of my trousers and show me how much you want it.”  He purred, relaxing back into the sofa. “Just your mouth,” he said warningly, he wanted to keep things slow for as long as possible. After watching Harley get a tattoo of his face on her breast it would be a miracle if he lasted any useful length of time at all- even without her wandering fingers.

      Harley leaned forwards, forgoing her usual teasing kisses and licks to his thighs and abdomen, and licking a hot stripe from the root of his cock up to his glans. J felt himself twitch under her lips which were pressing obnoxiously and deliciously light kisses to his length. By the time her tongue flicked over his tip, there was a bead of arousal that was threatening to spill over. She opened her mouth, not enough to give him what he wanted, just enough to make him grit his teeth in anticipation. Her mouth took just the first few centimeters of his tip into her mouth while her tongue swirled around his tip.

      “Damn it, Harley!” He grunted, “open your mouth and suck me.” Harley, ever the contrarian, follwed his demands by the letter rather than the intent and sunk down lower to his balls. It wasn’t what he meant (and she damn well knew it) but he wasn’t about to object. Her lips trailed downwards and pressed kisses to his smooth balls and sucked one side into her mouth while lightly tugging against their upward rise. Before Harley, J had given very little thought to his post-ACE hairless body (other than how funny it was that it made some male fixtures of the underworld uncomfortable) but the smooth glide of her skin and mouth on his body was entirely to delicious to ignore.

      “Fuck!” He grunted, his hands gripping onto her hair. She was too good. He was far more ready to burst than he had hoped to be. Just watching their images bloom across her skin had been arousing enough and now her lips sucking at his cock and her tongue dance over the skin was driving him insane.

      Harley seemed to sense his growing need from his bucking hips and restrained groans. Her mouth returned with a vengeance to his cock as she seemed to try and take him as deep as humanly possible. Just when J was trying to hold back his orgasm, she started moaning around his cock and digging her nails in to the meat of his thighs.

      “Fuck! Harley,” He growled, trying to decide if he should let himself go or not. While he hadn’t planned on coming so soon, he would need the relief to fuck her the way he wanted to. He had plans, delicious, torturous plans. Harley made that decision for him as she pressed his lenght deep enough into her mouth that he could feel the spasming muscles of her throat. She was sucking him blind with a mouth full of cock and staring at him with watering, darkened eyes. He came with a wordless shout and a gush of fluids down her throat that had Harley moaning around him as if his arousal fueled hers.

      “That’s enough for now, Little Monster,” J panted while pulling her by her hair off of his wilting cock. “Let him rest.” Harley launched herself at J, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing him hard and deep. The taste of his bitter come on her lips made him groan into her open mouth. J pushed himself to standing with Harley still wrapped his waist and blindly stumbled towards their bedroom while walking out of his pants and boxers.

      “Please, Puddin’.” Harley whimpered, rocking her pelvis against the hard ridges of his abdomen unevenly. J growled at the sensation but knew there was no chance in hell of him getting it up so quickly. He set Harley onto the bed and stared down at her.

      “God, you look perfect.” He groaned. The skin around the tattoo was almost shockingly red compared to her bleached white skin. She was lying there in a pair of skin tight black jeans and an unlaced corseted shirt she’d worn to hide what of her breasts she could from the direct gaze of the tattoo artist and the henchmen who’d been in the room with them. J threw her high heels over his shoulder and all but tore off her jeans, delighted to find her pantieless.

      “Perfection,” he growled against her new tattoo before biting her nipple harshly.

      “Puddin!” She squeaked, trying to grip his head in place by his hair. J chuckled darkly and pushed her back to lying flat on the bed and flipped her over so that she was lying face down. He growled, scraping his nails down her back and reveling in the way her hips bucked unevenly against the bed.

      His hands migrated to her ass without his permission. He started innocently enough, trailing teasingly light lines across and over it while enjoying her whimpers and dancing hips. Abruptly, he scratched his nails across each of her cheeks inwards before delivering a light slap to one side. The jiggle was hypnotizing. The way her whimpers turned into a groan and her constrained bucking became a desperate search for friction was one the most fucking arousing things he’d ever seen.

      “More?” He asked, unsure if how Harley would react. Violence usually turned both of them on and frequently ended in them fucking on the closest available surface. But unless they were sparring, that violence was directed at other people. Except the occasional restraint and the _very_ rare bit of choking, violence was a precursor to fucking not part of it. Especially since she got back from Belle Reave.

      “Harder!” She cried, thrusting her bottom towards him to make it more target worthy (as if that was possible). J growled and let his right-hand fly against her, starting light and slow getting harder and harder until she cried for ‘more’ not ‘harder.’ The redness that spread across her cheeks was artwork.  Her whimpers and moans were music to his ears. Her bucking and grinding was finest dance he’d ever seen.

      J continued spanking her until she was almost sobbing with arousal and his cock was twitching in an attempt at resurrection. He repositioned himself so that he was kneeling between Harley’s now spread legs. His hand trailed from her ass which he’d absent mindedly begun to rub and ran down to her slit. A groan tore out of his throat without his leave at the fucking lagoon he’d found.

      “Do you have any idea how wet you are?” He growled against her backside where he’d rested the side of his face against her roasted cheeks. Her upper thighs were slick and there was a wet spot on the sheets below her from where her arousal had literally dripped out of her.

      “Please!” She whimpered, bucking against the hand that was tracing the length of her slit. J launched himself on to the bed, his head facing towards her feet. Without a second thought, he rested her knee atop his shoulder and began to feast. Absently, he decided that it was a very good thing that he’d already come. Otherwise it would have been unable to stop himself from plunging into his girl.

      “Get me hard,” he groaned into her pussy, reveling in her taste on his tongue.

 

* * *

      

      Harley smiled at his plumping cock that wasn’t quiet half hard yet. It was hard to focus on him with the sheer number of sensations ripping through her. The arousing hum of his groans against her pussy. The very present burn of her backside. The faint bitter taste of him on her tongue.

      “Yes,” she purred at the harsh grip of his fingers on her hips. He was rougher with her than she could remember him being orally before, literally pulling her hips to his mouth while feasting on her like a starved man. His tongue made an intoxicating circuit between her hardened and swollen clit, thrusting into her clenching channel, and flicking at her perineum.

      “Please,” she sobbed out against his hip bone, “your fingers, please!” Her pleading was cut off with a sharp squeal as he impaled her with two long fingers that curled relentlessly against her sweet spot. The other hand palmed and groped her roasted bottom relentlessly, the already hypersensitive skin tingled in appreciation making Harley drip onto his tongue.

      Harley bit her lip, trying to focus. His cock had plumped some since he’d begun playing with her but not nearly enough for her plans. She leaned forward through her aroused haze and began tracing teasing lines up and down his cock with the very tip of her tongue. Once he twitched to mostly hard, she began sucking just the tip of his cock into her mouth to catch the occasional drop of arousal. She slipped her hands lower and began rubbing circles in the sensitive patch of skin behind his sac, stimulating his prostate through his perineum.

      Harley’s marauding fingers forced J away from her pussy with a groan. She could feel him panting against her folds which only made her smirk and double her digital exploration of her man. J seemed to sense her plans and slapped her hard on the her already tenderized backside and pull her flush to his mouth.

      “Fuck!” His mouth was everywhere. Licking the length of her smooth labia. Flicking delicious circles over her clit. Sucking harshly at her inner thighs. Swirling over the sensitive spot below her clitoris she didn’t even have a name for but was rapidly coming to appreciate. His fingers were curled deep within her, positioned so one circled her cervix while another two rocked relentlessly against her g-spot. The other hand was kneading and caressing her ass until she was reduced to a shuddering and whimpering ball of sensation.

      “Please, Puddin’!” She cried, his cock pulsing all but forgotten in front of her face. Harley could feel herself rocking harshly against his face and her pussy giving warning spurt as her climax approached. Just when it began to crest and the delicious clenching began to build up inside of her, J pulled away with a wicked grin.

      “Pudin’!” Harley shouted, her legs shaking violently.

      “Not yet.” He growled, pulling away with a teasing note in his voice. “Get on all fours.”

      “Puddin’! Please, I’m so close.” Harley cried, her pussy flexing hard around nothing, desperate for his tongue, his fingers, _anything!_

      “Not yet.” He chuckled, pulling her onto her hands and knees and stepping off the bed to grab something from a bedside table.

      “Have I told you that you are an evil, terrible clown recently?” She spat, rolling her hips against the air.

      “Flattery will get you nowhere,” he grunted with a laugh. He kneeled back down behind her. Harley whimpered at the sensation of his cock greasing itself against her slit and grazing her clit. “Do you want this?” He purred into her ear.

      “Yes! Please!” Harley cried, uncaring of how desperate she sounded. She needed to come. It almost hurt how badly her clit cried for contact and her channel flexed, seeking any kind of sensation to pull her over the edge. “Pretty, pretty, please!”

      “Aren’t you just perfect?” He purred, finally letting his cock slip into her. Harley shouted in relief as he slipped inside of her. He went as deep as he could and froze, making her slap the bed in frustration and scream a few choice words at him. He didn’t even bother laughing, seemingly fiddling with something outside of her line of sight. She distantly heard something fall on to the bed but couldn’t bring herself to care until she felt him rub a line of cold gel along her crack.

      Harley groaned loudly, rolling her hips back against his and earning a slap across her buttocks. She dropped to her elbows, rocking back against her frozen clown. Unbeknownst to her, the position she’d adopted perfectly opened her furrow to J and his hand began massaging the cold, slippery gel closer and closer to her pucker.

      “Please! I need you!” She shouted, rocking harder and harder against him until he gripped her hip with his free hand with bruising force.

      “Shush, Little Monster. You’ll have it when I give it to you.” His hips slowly began rocking against hers, his hand tightening painfully whenever her counter movement grew too agitated. His other hand went from teasing the ring of her sphincter to pushing inside her with long, slow strokes that ran counter to his thrusts.

      The two-part motion left little else for her to do but scream. His hips thrust forward; the tip of his cock sliding over g-spot before hitting bottoming out by her cervix. His hips retreated, two fingers pushed inside her ass, stretching her with delicious friction. Back and forth, back and forth his fingers and hips went. She shouted each time he bottomed out and whined embarrassingly loudly each time his fingers scissored and shook inside of her.

      Harley was wondering if he was ever going to let her come. Every time her muscles started to pulse with impending release he would slow down until she was sobbing with need. His fingers thrust deep within her and shook, no longer making any attempt to follow his ever-changing rhythm. For a moment, he would pump fast and hard into her and allow his free hand to move from her hip to pluck at her clitoris and she would think her torment was over. But then as soon as she started to choke out his name, he would thrust deep into her and simply grind against her cervix while removing any and all clitoral contact.

      It was maddening. And delightful. And she was going to kill him if he didn’t let her come soon.

      She shifted her weight, so it rested solely on one arm. Her weight bearing arm was bent at the elbow with her cheek pressed against the meat of her forearm. She reached back with her other arm, flexing her abs hard to try and keep from falling over under the force of J’s thrusts. Just as her fingers reached her clit to put herself out of her misery, J snatched her wrist with the hand that had been clasped to her hip.

      “Not yet, Little Monster.” He snarled between gasped breaths.

      “Damn you! I need to come, please!” She shouted, aware she sounded like she might cry. J twisted her arm to pin her wrist at her lower back. He rewarded her needy shout with a faster pace. Harley all but collapsed onto her free arm until both her shoulders were touching the mattress.

      “Relax. I won’t leave you wanting.” He growled. She didn’t need to be able to see his face to know he was smirking. Before Harley could spit out the swears and creative insults that bubbled behind her lips, J took advantage of her deeply angled position and pounded into her.

      “Puddin’!” She shouted, her whole body jolting with the direct pressure on her g-spot. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. The delayed and denied pleasure of the last thirty minutes churned within her. Her muscles clenched violently around him, dragging a loud curse from his mouth. The sloshing noise between her legs got obscenely loud until it was abruptly drowned out by Harley’s screams.

      J’s hips kicked up a final notch while his fingers wiggled harder inside of her. His growled praise echoed through her body until the pleasure of her muscles bearing down on him made her feel like she was going to burst.

      And burst she did.

      Her orgasm was unlike any she’d had before. The pleasurable haze of orgasm had turned into some kind of an altered state. The involuntary vocalizations that had characterized so many of her coupling with her Puddin’ tore out of her in a series of shocked screams. The muscle contractions she’d come to know turned from simply bucking against her man to her shaking so hard J was grunting with the effort of restraining her. The gush of fluids that often accompanied her orgasms had turned into a jet of fluid that sprayed out of her in a rush that made her feel like a geyser.

      Harley collapsed to the bed panting. J let go of her arm and reached for another bottle of something that he quickly rubbed on his fingers that had been in her ass. He then lowered himself over her, placing light kisses to her sweaty back and neck. No longer thrusting, he slowly ground himself inside of her in a way that made residual waves of pleasure echo inside of her.

      “Holy fuck.” Harley muttered into the bedding.

      “You’re so beautiful.” He growled, straightening out his legs between hers and lying himself over her back. “We may need to change the sheets.”

      “Holy fuck.” She muttered again, gasping for breath. Having J lie on top of her like that was making it harder to catch her breath, but it was worth it to feel the length of him against her. Harley wiggled her fingers at him, prompting him to interlace his fingers with hers over her head. J was braced over her while lovingly pinning her hands in a way that removed some of his weight from her back but still pressed her front hard into the bed. It was both comforting and smothering in a very, very good way.

      “More,” she whispered, almost scared to see what else her body was going to show her tonight. J chuckled against her sweat neck where he’d been leaving bruising kisses and began to rock against her slowly. He couldn’t hit her g-spot as directly in this position, but it made her sensitized clit rub against the bedding. It wasn’t nearly as intense, but after the last orgasm she’d happily choose being pressed close to her man.

      “What does Daddy’s Little Monster need?” He chuckled, picking up the pace slightly.

      “Harder.”

      J pressed up onto his hands to gain leverage, so his upper body arched over hers. Not wanting to lose skin to skin contact with him, Harley raised up on her forearms and did her best to counter his movements from her restrained position. She flared out her legs in a slight split and bent them deeply at the knee to press the tops of her feet to his buttocks to encourage him to go deeper, faster, harder, anything, just _more_.

      “Do you have any idea,” he grunted, “how fucking tight you are in this position?” He groaned against her skin. Harley turned her head painfully to lock lips with her man as his movements grew faster and harder. He released one of her hands to trace up her torso and grip her breast.

      Harley shivered and gasped at the sensation of his fingers pulling at her nipples and palming her breasts. Her skin was sensitive from the tattoo and rubbing against the sheets while he fucked her into the mattress. His hands were the perfect sensual balm to her raw skin.

      “Harley!” J grunted, moving faster. The angling of his hip pushed hers harder into the mattress, accenting each deep thrust with a slow grind of her against the wet sheets. The friction of her clitoris combined with the slow pounding of his cock had her mouth gaped open.

      “Please!”

      “Are you going to come for me?” He growled in a choked voice, obviously fighting the tide of arousal.

      “Harder!” She whimpered leaning her head further back while his lips left aching trails down her neck and upper back. J grunted loudly, biting down on the delicate skin as his hips built up to a relentless rhythm.

      “God, Harley- you’re too,” he began before interrupting himself with a loud groan. “Fuck, I need you. Need you to come for me.” He panted into the sweaty crook her neck while his fingers continued to pluck at her nipples.

      “Yes, Puddin’ need you too.” She grunted back. Her head tipped forward as she rocked harder against the mattress. The flinty spark of pleasure radiating out from her clitoris finally caught the waiting kindling of pleasure in her core and blazed to life. A sharp wave of pleasure crested over her body that made her cry out his name while another gush of fluids flooded from her core.

      “Uhn! Uh- Puddin’!”

      “Yes, Harley. Yes!” He grunted, his hips flying against her trembling lower body. Just Harley began to return to her surroundings she felt J pull himself from between her legs, leaving her feeling gutted. She could feel the rapid comings and goings of his hand over his length before his hips flexed hard against her backside one last time.

      "Mine." He growled over and over into the nape of her neck before his words broke into a loud grunt that echoed through the room. A warm jet of fluid sprayed across her bottom and lower back making Harley moan exhaustedly. She loved it when he marked her like this, which he seemed to do very often lately, her only complaint is that he'd come on her in a place she couldn't see,

      For some time, the pair stayed frozen with J curled protectively or possessively over Harley’s prone form. Eventually he pulled them on to their sides, both of them trying to ignore the way their skin had become glued together by his come. The two murmured the occasional bit of nonsense to the other until Harley was yawning every other word.

      “Pudin’, if you wanna kill the artist tonight we better do it now before I fall asleep.” She laughed exhaustedly.

      “She’ll keep for a few hours.” He yawned into her hair. “Sleep for now then we’ll have some fun and get someone to change the bedding.” The two had tried to wiggle away from the wet spots that littered the bed, but dry areas were few and far between.

      “M’kay. Love you.”

      “Love you too.” He mumbled, too tired to see how his words made her wearied face light up.

 

* * *

      

      Harley woke jolted from sleep, panting and sweaty. She tore the blankets off herself to look down at the bedding. No blood. Just a dream. She pulled herself to sitting and looked over at her Puddin’ to make sure he was still with her. It was just a dream. He was alive and they were together. Everything was ok.

      Normally, J would wake her up from her nightmares but a month of screwing over his already terrible sleep schedule had exhausted her poor clown. Not to mention she’d tired him out pretty well both in bed and in their playroom, she laughed hollowly to herself. Unable to stay in bed a moment longer, Harley wandered over to the vanity where she normally did her makeup to make sure her face wasn’t bruised and swollen like in her dreams.

      Her reflection didn’t look any different. The only injury she had was a reddened cheek from where the tattoo artist had managed to get a good swing in while Harley was handcuffing her. A few weeks of proper nutrition and sleep with her Clown and she looked like herself again. She mostly felt like it to. It was just random painful twinges, mostly when she was trying to sleep, that reminded her of the last few months. But in those moments, there weren’t enough pills or liquor in all of Gotham to make her forget.

      With a small smile, she looked down at her newest tattoo. She didn’t know how to explain how happy it made her that J came up with the design and had it done while she had been imprisoned. No matter how many times she was presented with evidence of how he felt, it sometimes still surprised her that he missed her or thought about her when she was gone.

      The tattoo was beautiful, and the artist was very dead. What wasn’t there to be thrilled about? She wasn’t sure what more she could want, but something about it didn’t feel right. The two cards were spaced wide enough apart that she could add more embellishments if she wanted. Maybe she shouldn’t have killed the artist just yet. She probably should have slept on it to make sure she liked the end product.

      Harley shook her head at her reflection, any old artist could add more if she wanted it. It’s not like she another portrait in mind. J could add a skull or a jester or flowers or anything she wanted really. But none of that felt right. It was incomplete, incorrect and she didn’t know how or why. The longer she stared at it the itchier and more anxious she felt.

      “Ya know what’s missin.” The Lady said quietly.

      “No, I don’t.” Harley spat back, tracing the space between the two cards with the tips of her fingers.

      “It’s a family portrait, hun-bun. Ya know what it’s missin.” The Lady laughed in a hollow, cruel tone.

      “I can’t.” Harley gasped, taken aback.

      “Why not?” Asked Harleen. “You already told him, it’s not like it’s telling him something he doesn’t know.”

      “But I don’t want him to think that I was attached to them.”

      “You were though.” Harleen reminded her.

      “I don’t want him to think that I wish they’d happened.” Harley said honestly.

      “Ya don’t have to wish you’d had ‘em to miss ‘em.” Laughed the Lady bitterly.

      “And how exactly do you propose I explain that to him?”

      “Not really my problem, munchkin.”

 

* * *

 

      J rolled over in his sleep, lazily reaching for Harley. When all his hands found were cold sheets, he sat up stick straight. He disliked waking up without her ever since they first started sharing a bedroom. But now that she’d been taken from him for so long, he absolutely hated it.

      “Harley?” He called trying to ignore his racing heart.

      “In here Puddin’!” She shouted back from their closet, her voice sounding slightly off.

      “You coming back to bed?” J growled, walking over to her. She was sitting naked in front of her mirrored table with her fingers running over her latest tattoo. God, she looked beautiful like this. How had he never fucked her over her vanity? There were so many mirrors pointed this way and that he’d be able to see everything from every angle. J felt his cock twitch and smiled ruefully to himself.

      “Just looking at my tattoo.” She said distractedly. Her eye brows were furrowed down and her lips twisted in a way that clearly communicated discontent.

      “It’s perfect.”

      “It’s beautiful,” she started before shooting him a big smile in the mirror, “you picked a good artist.”

      “Then why do you look like you want to cut it out?” J growled. He loved the way the two of them looked on her skin. Marking her as part of the royal couple of Gotham. Marking her and his and his as hers. Reminding the lowly members of the public just what their role was.

      “I…” she began before trailing off nervously. J lifted a bald eyebrow; his girl was all self-assured sharp edges. Since when did she not have the confidence to just demand what she wanted?

      “Spit it out Little Monster,” J growled playfully, gripping her chin so she was making eye contact with him instead of his reflection.

      “I want to add a little more to it.” She said quickly. J laughed, that was what this was all about? She was worried about hurting his ‘feelings’ by changing the original design?

      “What were you thinking?” He asked with a grin. As long as she didn’t want another portrait, he could do whatever she wanted himself. He was never letting another person tattoo that close to any of her fun bits ever again. Although, he wasn’t sure which parts of her he didn’t consider fun…

      “I want to add a two of hearts between our cards.” She said blankly with no obvious emotion. J was shocked out of his inner tangent.

      “Oh.” J said, walking backwards to sit on the edge of a cupboard behind him. He was aware his face was crumpled up in deep thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to care that his emotions were showing. Why would she want that? Yes, he got the obvious symbolism, it was clearly an homage to their ‘Bumplets’ as she insisted on calling… it? Them? Whatever the word, J didn’t _hate_ the idea of having that on her skin, but he didn’t like it either.

      He didn’t like the idea of having a permanent reminder that she’d have to see it every day of what had been taken. He didn’t like the idea of having to look at it and be reminded of just what the lifestyle he’d pulled her into had done. He didn’t like the idea of reminding each other that there was another reality that Harley, to some degree, still wanted.

      “If someone else saw it…” J began before trailing off. It was a weak excuse and he knew it.

      “Who exactly do I go around flashing my tits to?” Harley spat back with fire in her eyes.

      “Why?” J asked sharply, unable to stop himself.

      “Because I don’t want to forget.”

      “Why?” J asked again, this time sounding incredulous. He’d forgotten most of his life and was largely grateful for it. If he could forget just what choices his involvement in Harley’s life had cost her, he would. But he couldn’t.

      “I don’t wish they were here. I don’t wish we were playing house in some boring suburb. But they were ours and they were part of our…” she trailed off, obviously floundering for a word the described their living situation. J sighed; grateful she hadn’t called it a ‘family.’ He would have had to leave the apartment and go pay their playrooms a visit before continuing that particular conversation.

      “I just, I don’t want to forget them.” She finished looking exhausted.

      J looked at her for a long moment, trying to understand. He could understand not wanting to have something taken from you. He could understand being attached to someone. He could understand that it hurt to have someone you were attached to taken away without your permission. To be honest (and he tried very hard not to be), he understood how she felt about the ‘Bumplets’ better than he wanted to admit.

      His nightmares weren’t only about her being taken away. His brain was more than happy to create images of what it thought the day Griggs’ men beat her looked like or what exactly The Enchantress had shown her. He had never been attached to those _things_ growing inside of her, he’d figured they were long gone by the time he found out about them. While he’d been wrong about that, he never had the chance to form an opinion on them.

      “Please, J. They were half mine.” Harley said, looking up at him with those big fucking eyes. “I won’t do it if you can’t take looking at it, but if you’re just being a stubborn ass then I will do it myself.”

      “Grab the tattoo gun, I’ll do it.” He grunted, feeling oddly drained by their argument.

      “Thank you.” She said atypically seriously before walking out of the room.

      J kneeled in front of her prone form to sanitize the area. It wouldn’t take long, he thought, his eyes flicking to the reference card he was basing the tattoo on. He didn’t say much while he worked, neither of them did.

      He hated the way he felt. All he wanted to do was run out of the room with whatever knives and guns he could grab and stab and shoot and carve until there was nothing left. He wanted to relax into the endless chaos he dreamed of spreading across Gotham. He wanted to go back to feeling nothing, to be a remote parody of a human that smirked down on the lesser beings that surrounded him. Outside of their room, that was still who he was. It was sizeable part of himself that he gleefully embraced. But inside these walls with Harley he kept catching himself slipping into more of a man than an idea. Albeit still a sociopathic man, but a man none the less.

      He sat there silently staring at the new addition when he finished her tattoo. She’d been… he hesitated to use the word right (if only because it would mean he was wrong), but it did look good. He had no interest in the reality The Enchantress had shown Harley and never would, but he could understand the pull Harley felt towards the ‘Bumplets’. He could understand why the idea of something equal parts of each of them would be attractive.

      While he didn’t care to imagine what it would be like to be forced to share Harley with anyone else, he could understand why it would hurt to have a lie grow inside of you that promised a different kind of future. A future where they were bound together by an evil little creature that would one day inherit the earth and crush Gotham underneath it’s feet. A future where that creature looked up at him with its mother’s feral smile and his crazed eyes learning to fight with her and building chemical toys with him. He could even understand why that lie was attractive. But it was a lie.

      Impulsively, he silently handed her the tattoo gun and tried to ignore the slight shake in his hands. J lied down on the floor and simply pointed to his two portrait cards.

      “Puddin’, what are you…?” Harley asked, her voice cutting off.

      “Do it.” He growled.

      “Don’t mock me.” She snapped back defensively, curling her arms around her abdomen.

      “Do it.” He spat over his shoulder at her. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was telling her to add the two of hearts card to his tattoo. For reasons he couldn’t understand, he wanted it. Maybe because it would make her happy. Maybe to remind him of the price of their life. Maybe because he didn’t want to forget the lies an ill-advised collection of cells told about a future that could have been.

      He wasn’t sure and it didn’t matter.

      The Joker wanted it, and The Joker got what he wanted.

 

* * *

      

      Harley had to fight to keep her hands steady as she completed his tattoo. When she was done, she all but tackled him to the ground with a fierce embrace. She assumed he was only sad because she was, not because he felt any type of way about Bumplets. But something about the way he held her, the fact she could feel his uneven breathing beneath her ear, made her wonder if she was missing something.

      The two stayed like that for hours, until Frost knocked on the door to tell them the gasoline trails had been set and were ready to be lit whenever they were ready. J told him to fuck off and they’d be ready in an hour. After Frost left, he sat up facing away from Harley, staring at the wall for a long minute before speaking again.

      “Harley?” He asked, sounding oddly unsure.

      “Yes, Puddin’?”

      Suddenly he turned around and held her by the jaw, looking at her intently and with some kind of fire in his eyes she didn’t recognize.

      “If that _ever_ happens again, you will tell me.” He said with the fully mocking and unsettling weight of what Harley had come to call his ‘The-Joker-voice’. Harley flinched; she didn’t want to think about that. Having the Bumplets taken from her without her permission had been bad enough. She didn’t want to think of a world where she’d accidentally gotten knocked up again. It was her body damn it, and only she would get to decide if and when that would happen.

      “I-” she began before he slipped his hand over her mouth, giving her a big tattooed grin.

      “Even if you aren’t sure. Even if you just think that maybe, just _maybe_ we fucked up again. You will use your big girl words and we will make a decision about it together.” He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. Harley took his hand from her mouth and intertwined their fingers, so their joined hands rested on her cheek.

      “I swear it.” She said solemnly. J opened his mouth to respond before she cut him off with a pointed look. “But I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t happen and we don't have to make any decisions.” She growled, running her free hand over her abdomen as if she’d be able to feel her new IUD through the layers of fat and skin and organs between her hand and the small piece of copper.

      She’s specifically chosen an IUD because there was no way anyone could remove it without her noticing and very few injuries that could break it without killing her. She also may or may not have stolen an extra IUD from the doctor’s office and shown it to J so that if somehow it was removed while she was unconscious, he would never confuse shrapnel and birth control again.

       “Obviously.” He said harshly before pausing, “But if it did...” His voice had that same unstable tone as when he asked Harleen if she would live for him. She hadn’t heard that voice in a very, very long time. Back in A.C.E. she hadn’t known what it meant, and she couldn’t begin to guess what it meant right then.

      “I promise.” She said, trying to hide her surprise, resting her head on his shoulder where J ran his finger through her hair. After a few minutes the restless feeling that intermittently bubbled up in her chest since she’d returned from Belle Reave began to churn inside of her. “Puddin’ I need…” she began, unsure what it was she was asking for but knowing she needed _something_.

      “Let’s go. We got things to burn and our friendly neighborhood bat to piss off” He said squeezing her hands, seemingly knowing just what to do.

      Harley smiled back up at him, sometimes she forgot just how many times he’d been incarcerated. He knew just how badly she needed to go do something, destroy someone, and prove that she was free. The last few hours hadn’t been enjoyable and the best way to fix that was to go have some fun on the streets of Gotham.

      She got up and walked over to their closet, to find just the right outfit. The news would be seeing her, and the Queen had a show to put on. She let herself melt into Harley, pushing away the parts of her that were still Harleen.

      Who needed pain when the world was so funny?

      It was all some dark joke that only she and her Puddin’ could see.

      Gotham needed its’ Queen and its’ Queen needed to have a little fun.

      “Ready to turn some frowns upside down?” Harley laughed with a disturbing grin, sliding her guns into their holsters, before pressing a kiss to his lips.

 

* * *

 

 

      The pair cackled hysterically as they watched the news reports of their latest prank from the comfort of their apartment. News helicopters were broadcasting live footage of the fires as the great and good of Gotham fought to extinguish them. The H and J had been easy enough to get going on the city grid, but it had been a bitch and a half to get the heart and arrow to cooperate.

      “God it looks beautiful,” Harley said in an awed tone. The news flicked over to the security footage a good Samaritan named Jo Kerr had sent them of Harley dropping a lighter into an iridescent puddle and blowing the camera a kiss.

      “No, _that_ looks beautiful.” J growled, as he rewound and replayed the video of Harley starting the fire over and over again. “If you hadn’t tired me out so thoroughly Miss Quinn, I’d balls deep in you before the clip was over.”

      “Aw, was round three on the car ride back a little much for my Clown?” Harley joked.

      “I think your valiant oral efforts in the shower afterwards to thank me for agreeing to add the heart is what did it.”

      “Well you didn’t have to reciprocate. Twice.” She chuckled, batting his hand away from the remote as he rewound yet again. “How long do you think it will take for them to realize you sent the CCTV footage?” She giggled, twisting in his arms to press a kiss his lips.

      “Longer than it should.” He laughed. “I meant to ask earlier tonight but then I got distracted by highly flammable liquids and this lady-” He began to joke before Harley cut him off.

      “Do I know her?” She demanded in a faux angry voice.

      “Oh, she’s about yay high, white hair, completely fucking insane.” He laughed.

      “No crazier than you, Puddin’.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

      “Good, you better not be muscling in on my territory,” he laughed. “You never told me the second thing you wanted you didn’t already have that The Enchantress showed you,” He said. Harley froze, so very much not wanting to have this conversation. It was hard in that moment to be the giggling, sexy, queen of Gotham when he kept reminding her of who she was inside these walls. That part of her just wanted was to live in bed with her Puddin’.

      “I was hoping you hadn’t remembered that.” Harley said very quietly. “What in your crazy, confusing brain made you think of that?” She asked, trying to sound amused.

 

* * *

 

 

      “Oh, you know, just scoping out the competition,” he laughed. J would never admit it, but the idea that he couldn’t give her what she wanted still hurt. He hadn’t quiet figured out how he felt about the whole ‘Bumplet’ thing, but he could tell it was something like what he had felt when Harley was taken. He could tattoo little reminders of what had been taken all over each other, but he couldn’t bring back their choice. He didn’t know what the second thing Harley wanted was, but he hoped it was something he could actually give her.

      “It’s not competition, you idiot. Besides it’s stupid, I don’t need it, it would change literally nothing, and it will make you mad, Puddin’.” She said, trying to smile.

      “Oh, you know better than that Harley Quinn. You have the most interesting brain, tell Daddy.” He coaxed, biting her neck. He was in a mischievous mood, but he still had that determined look in his eyes that made it clear he was going to find out one way or another.

      “J…” She trailed off, unsure.

      “Well if you won’t tell me- I will tickle it out of you!” He giggled, pouncing on her.

      “Never!” she yelled back. J pinned her to the bed and was tickling her mercilessly with both hands for almost five minutes before Harley cried out, “stop it you asshole, I’m gonna wet the bed!”

       “Go ahead and do it! We have extra sheets. I’m not stopping until you tell me!” He growled with a smirk on his face.

      “Fine you ass! We were married.” She yelled, clearly bracing herself for him to laugh at her, yell, or explain in his daddy-is-loosing-his-patience voice why that was a stupid idea. He abruptly stopped tickling her and sat back on his heels looking truly confused.

      “We what?” he asked, completely stunned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, whadaya think? Only one chapter left, keep your hungry author fed with comments and kudos to keep her working hard on the very final touches to the last chapter.


	13. Sweeter With a Side of Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> J was stubborn enough to try and resist the undefined need, the madness, that pulled them together like gravity, but he knew he’d been surrendering to it inch by inch for years. He supposed it was a bit tit for tat. She was the only person insane enough to love The Joker and she was the only person he would ever sacrifice his own needs, let alone wants, for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is the last chapter. I’m posting it a day early because I will have exactly no internet for the next couple days. When I started writing this almost a year ago, I never expected it to turn into this 420 page behemoth or thought I would ever post it anywhere. I’m so grateful for everyone whose commented or given kudos, I can’t begin to tell you what your support has meant.  
> 

            J sat in a playroom, distractedly breaking each bone in his chew toy’s hand one by one. He couldn’t even remember what this unlucky son of a bitch had done but he was sure he earned it. Or not, it didn’t really matter. He’d more or less randomly picked the man from the holding cell of playthings once he was sure Harley was really asleep and wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night (well, technically day) and panic at his cold side of the bed.

            He had been thrilled when she’d finally fallen asleep. As the day Waller’s execution drew closer, Harley had been worse and worse at sleeping. They’d distracted each other for most of the night by putting the final flourishes on how they were going to present Waller’s body to the Bat. But now that her manic lists of ideas had gone silent, he found himself craving the diverting hum of her voice. While he’d certainly had many sleepless days thinking about Waller and what she had done, tonight his mind taunted him with another conundrum.

            It had been weeks since he’d forced her to blurt out what else The Enchantress had shown her, but her words still occasionally rattled around his head. He’d tried to drown them out with pranks and drugs and Harley, but they kept coming back. Tonight, they’d been deafening. It all just kept coming back to one confounding question: _Why the fuck had they been married in her fantasy?_

            J growled, chiseling the nails off his plaything’s fingers. Why the hell did The Enchantress include that? The day she’d gotten back from Bella Reave she’d described a vision of them playing house with the ‘Bumplets’ doing normal boring things during the _day_. Marriage must have just been part of that ridiculous fantasy which they both knew was never going to happen and would bore them both to death if they even tried.

            “Do shut up, I’m trying to think” Joker growled at his plaything who was now screaming obnoxiously loudly. J quickly walked across the room and grabbed a gas mask and a large knife shaking his head. He wasn’t sure why, but he wasn’t completely convinced that Harley’s desire to marry him was just some silly part of a stupid fantasy. If it were, she would have told him and they would have made fun of it, just like they had the whole ‘being-awake-during-the-day’ thing. The fact she hadn’t told him probably meant that the parts of her that were still Harleen wanted it.

            Harley couldn’t possibly really want it; it was just some projection of Harleen’s desperation after all those months in Belle Reave and from thinking he was dead. That had to be it. Marriage. What an absurd concept. It was just a stupid, meaningless ceremony that disgusted him for reasons he couldn’t remember.

            J strapped the gas mask to the panicked man’s face and began doodling random cuts into his torso while he thought. Why would any part of Harley, even the Harleen parts, even want to be married? She damn well knew it wouldn’t change anything. They lived together, worked together, played together, ruled together. How could swapping jewelry and words in front of someone who served a dull, false idol change anything for Gotham’s royalty? It’s not as if there were even going to be tax benefits, he snorted.

            Joker slashed into the now limp man in hopes of dispelling the heavy anxiety that had settled in his bones. What promise was better, he laughed, some cheap words reluctantly recited by some clammy idiot in a rented tuxedo that were broken shortly thereafter? Or their proven commitment to live and die for each other?

            J laughed at unrecognizable man strapped to the chair in front of him. There was no reason for him to be spending so much time thinking about this silly little conundrum when there were much more important things on the horizon that needed his attention. He’d avoided talking to Harley about it because he wasn’t sure he’d like the answer, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted from their revenge plot unless it was absolutely vital. He should just rip off the Band-Aid, reaffirm that _Harley_ had zero interest in marriage, and forget the endlessly perplexing issue. The end.

            “Thank you for our little chat,” J laughed sarcastically at the body of the man he’d been playing with. “You were very helpful.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “Tuck, I swear to god if you don’t actually try to hit me, I will dissect you, have Slappy wrap up your bits with a bow, and send those care packages to all of your baby mamas.” Harley growled at the combat instructor lying on the ground after knocking him on his ass for the umpteenth time.

            “I am!” He protested loudly, wiping the blood from his nose.

            “Then you’re useless to me.” Harley giggled angrily, pulling a large switch blade from her sports bra. They both knew he was almost as good as she was and there was no way she’d be able to lay him flat so many times so quickly if he was actually trying.

            “Do you wanna revise that statement and actually help me train or do I need to start carving?”

            “Fine!” He shouted, raising his hands up by his head. “I just don’t want the Bossman to kill me for hurting you.” She rolled her eyes. The henchmen were so predictable. While it was funny to see them struggle to decide if they were more scared of her or her Puddin’, it could also get extremely annoying.

            “Well think ‘bout it this way, either I _definitely_ kill you for not training with me or Mistah J _maybe_ kills you for hurting me.”

            “Jesus, Harley.” Tuck laughed awkwardly, lurching to his feet. “Remember how nice you were to me when you were just a newbie?”

            “I gave you a choice, didn’t I?” Harley giggled again. She was only nice to him back when she first came to the hideout because it was a better idea to endear herself to the big man charged with teaching her to fight (or, more practically, beating the shit out of her) than to piss him off. Besides, giving him a way not to get dead _was_ nice.

            “Now, Tuckster, are you going to nut up and train me or should I call Slappy and tell him to pick out wrapping paper?” Harley giggled. Tuck didn’t respond verbally and, instead, delivered his response via a punched to her jaw.

            “Good boy!” Harley laughed, clapping excitedly.

            After her little pep talk, Tuck was far more cooperative. While she still occasionally caught him pulling punches, the next forty-five minutes were a bloody, messy brawl. Just what she needed. It was hard to find someone that was better than her who was actually willing to fight her these days. When she first came to the hide out, before it was clear just what kind of crazy she was and just how much Mr. J liked her, it had been easy. Even when she’d first gotten back from Belle Reave there had been enough new guys around that there was no shortage of idiots happy to accept her request to spar. A few months later far fewer willing to.

            Yes, she could just train with her Puddin’ but that A) would limit the amount of time she could train each day and B) never lasted for very long before they ended up fucking in the gym. As much as she enjoyed a good frenzied marathon on the crash mats or on the silks, she needed to be in top form. Harley hadn’t seen the Bat since the night he’d stolen her away, but she was counting the hours until their next game was afoot. Batsy was going to be there and she and her Puddin’ were finally going to break him. And breaking him required her to be in tip-top shape.

            “Let’s call it a night, Tuckster.” Harley laughed, releasing her triangle leg choke hold from Tuck’s neck that she’d held slightly too long. The purplish man gasped for air for a few moments, nodding vigorously before shooting her a too-big grin.

            “Yes ma’am. Same time tomorrow?” He coughed, rubbing the bruises blooming on his neck.

            “Sure thing. Make sure I don’t need to convince you to be a good boy tomorrow.” Harley smiled toothily before turning and strutting out of the room back to her apartment.

            Harley wasn’t sure if she was ready to see the Bat again. The only way to avoid him really was to stop playing jokes on Gotham and there was precisely zero chance of that happening. This time when she saw the Bat, she would leave him with a hell of a parting gift that would make him confront just what he was.

            “What’s the damage, sugar?” Harley chuckled to herself while turning this way and that in front of her vanity to survey her boo-boos. Tuck had started to behave by the end, but he hadn’t done much damage and definitely not as much damage as she’d done to him. She was humming to herself and poking an angry looking red mark on her elbow when she heard the door open. Harley smiled to herself and skipped to the living area of their apartment.

            “Where you been ‘Puddin?” She asked with a raised eyebrow and hands on her hips. She usually woke up without him and while she didn’t like it, especially if it was in the middle of the day, she hadn’t been suspicious when his side had been cold. But judging by the deep shadows and creased eyeliner under his eyes and the dried blood splattered across his naked torso, he’d been entertaining himself for several hours.

            “Thinking.” He mumbled looking surprised to see her awake.

            “Care to share with the class?” Harley giggled, trying to keep her questions off her face. He probably just had a nightmare, he pretended that they hadn’t been worse since Batsy took her but they both knew they were. They’d both been somewhat overwhelmed with the combination of excitement and dread of confronting Waller which had definitely not helped anything.

            “Oh, nothing much.” He said flatly, sprawling out on one of their arm chairs and holding out his arm for her. Harley skipped over to him and sat herself in his lap. J opened his mouth to speak before raising a naked brow curiously.

            “What did you do to yourself?” J laughed, reaching up and running a finger over her split lip before pulling away bright red fingers.

            “I was playing with Tuck.” She giggled at the blood, “he was too scared of little ol’ me to play at first but he eventually listened.”

            “Is my girl getting ready to play with the Bat?” He smirked back with tired eyes.

            “You know it. Can’t have Batsy thinking I’ve let myself slip.” Harley said with a grin. She couldn’t wait to see the pain and anger on his face when he saw just what they were doing to his precious city of Gotham.

            “He wouldn’t dare.” He growled distractedly, nipping at her neck. Harley laughed, pressing a dangerous kiss to his lips that he barely returned. She looked at him critically. He was definitely over tired and looking a little out of it.

            “That’s all Harley has for show and tell. Your turn to tell the class what you were thinking about.”

            “I was thinking about The Enchantress.” J said evenly, obviously trying to read her face. Harley scowled.

            “And I was in such a good mood.” She rolled her eyes and started to get off his lap.

            “Hush now, Little Monster.” He growled, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back to him. “You were keeping secrets from Daddy and he wants to know why.”

            “What secrets?” She asked defensively. Harley silently cursed how quickly and angrily she responded. She was supposed to be a good lair.

            “Don’t play stupid. You know what.”

            “Nope.” She laughed, leaning back in the seat to tip her head all the way back over the armrest.

            “You didn’t tell me part two of your little fantasy.”

            “What fantasy?” Harley asked in a falsely cheery voice, hoping if she ignored the question long enough, he’d get the message and drop it. She’d been having so much fun beating up Tuck and dreaming about what Batsy’s face would look like when he saw what was left of Waller. There was absolutely no reason to ruin such a good mood by talking about her fantasy of them getting married.

            “You can’t play me.” He chuckled, pulling her back to sitting up right. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

            “Today was going entirely too well.” She muttered to herself. “Why couldn’t you be the forgetful kind of crazy?” She pouted.

            “I am.” He laughed sarcastically.

            “I don’t wanna talk about it.” Harley scoffed and crossed her arms.

            “Too bad.”

            “Fuck you.”

            “Later. One thing at a time.” He laughed forcing a reluctant smile from Harley.

            “The whole Bumplets thing was more important.” Harley spat, absentmindedly rubbing her knuckles over the two of hearts card tattooed over her sternum.

             “But you still decided not to tell me the second part.” He said while pressing a kiss to her hand that rested on her chest.

            “I told you- it’s stupid, would piss you off, and wouldn’t change a damn thing.”

            “Since when are you reluctant to tell me stupid things?” He laughed, “Pink alcohol and hallucinogens have a way of encouraging you to come up with all kinds of creative ideas.”

            “I only tried to talk you into making an all goat remake of Ghostbusters _once_ and that was only because I ate a whole tray of weed brownies.” She pouted.

            “Twice. And are you so quick to forget the notebook of ideas you keep dictating to little Mr. Mavis when you’re tripping dick?”

            “Hey, some of those ideas aren’t half bad.” Harley laughed, hoping that he would be distracted by the turn of their conversation.

            She didn’t need to show how badly she wanted something he would never agree to. J generally didn’t care that she was still more bound to social conventions then him. But this convention involved him and she knew just how much he would hate it. It wasn’t as if she wanted to marry him just because that’s what couples did, other couples were so hilariously inferior that there was no point in comparing them, but he wouldn’t understand that distinction. She wanted him to marry her because the idea of making him permanently and completely hers in the way she had been his since ACE was intoxicating. But it would make him feel all too normal and human and she didn’t want him to see just how badly she wanted something that would disgust him.

            “I don’t know what you want me to say.” She muttered sulkily. Yes, she wanted it. No, she would never admit it.

            “The truth.” J crooned dangerously while looking at her as if he could read the lines on her face like words.

            “Sounds boring,” Harley snorted. J stayed silent staring at her with an almost concerningly blank look on his face.

            “Is it because Harleen wants to play house?” J eventually asked cautiously in a dangerous and slightly hopeful voice.

            “Fuck no, she thinks it’s a terrible idea. We killed Harleen a long time ago.” Harley laughed with bitter surprise.  J went silent for a long moment, looking at her appraisingly before a look of shock flashed across his face.

            “ _You_ want it. Not Harleen,” J said in an almost incredulous voice.

            “Shut up.” Harley said, trying to ignore her flaming cheeks.

            “Do you?” He demanded in a confused voice. Harley popped off his lap before he could grab her and skipped over to the bathroom.

            “Did you ever finish the map of where we’re dropping the gas canisters on the subway? I saw some early drafts but nothin’ recent.” Harley asked in a slightly high pitch voice, abruptly changing topics. She knew damn well he’d planned the drop pattern to look like the Bat Signal days ago but needed to get him talking about something, _anything,_ else that was marginally less embarrassing.

            “Harley?” He asked again sounding completely lost. Harley ignored him, quickly taking off her sweaty workout clothes and stepping into their shower to rinse off. Through the glazed glass she could see J walk into the bathroom and sit on the marble counter next to the sink.

            “I need to know how many underlings we’ll be using so I can give final numbers to the mask maker on how many more she needs to make. I think she has twenty-five clown mask done so far. She’s been a total bitch about the whole being held against her will thing, but she finally managed to get the respirators to be built in which is great. They’ll look great on the goons. I’ll have to show you a final copy.” Harley rambled, hoping that if she kept talking J wouldn’t start.

            “We’ll need thirty.” J said reluctantly, clearly unhappy with the derailing of his conversation. Harley closed her eyes and began washing her hair, ignoring her Clown’s frustration.

            “Perfect, she’ll have them done in plenty of time. She’ll even have time to finish the one I wanted her to make for the sniper. I know we haven’t talked about it, but I thought it would be funny if we decorated her for when she took the shot on Waller. What do you think?” Harley blabbered in an anxious, manic voice.

            “I think you’re an impressive, twisted Little Monster with a delightful sense of humor who is trying desperately to change the topic.” J laughed in response.

            “How were you thinking of transporting Waller’s body?”  Harley asked while rinsing out her hair, pretending she hadn’t heard his comment about her changing the topic.

            “If we want to blend in during rush hour, we won’t be able to get away with transporting all of it. We’ll just bring whatever we can fit in a suitcase.” J sighed loudly and crossed his arms.

            “Fine.” Harley pouted with a wrinkled nose, stepping out of the shower. “But I get to decide where we leaves it and it has to be funny.”

            “Obviously.” He laughed, seemingly relenting to Harley’s forced topic change. “I’ll leave that one up to your creative discretion.”

            “Good boy,” she purred with a big grin, her eyes going dark as she imagined the various things that she could do with what would be left of Waller.

            “What is Daddy’s Little Monster thinking?” J purred in a deep voice.

            “All kinds of things Puddin’” She responded dreamily, looking off into the distance with a small smile.

            “What kind of horror are you hiding under that sweet face, Little Monster?”

            “Only the most creative kinds of revenge, Puddin’.” Harley smirked, toweling off her hair.

            “Revenge is known to make everything sweeter.” He growled.

            “Let me dry my hair and you can tell me if I’m sweet enough yet.” Harley giggled in response while gesticulating with a blow-dryer.

            “I await with bated breath.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “God damn it.” J muttered to himself. He’d been arguing with himself for the last week since he talked to Harley and had come to nothing remotely resembling a conclusion. On the several occasions he’d tried to get Harley to elaborate on her whole marriage fantasy she’d clammed up tighter than Batman’s clenched asshole. It was made even worse by Harley’s keen talent for distracting him. More than once, half way through sparring with her or blowing something up, he’d remember that he’d been trying to get her to tell him more about the fantasy and wouldn’t be able to figure out how exactly they gone from point A to point B.

            Not that he was complaining. He’d missed his Little Monster all the months she’d been gone, and they’d been having so much fun. It was just that every now and then he’d become poignantly aware of the anxiety of his unanswered questions. The fact that she hadn’t told him about a thousand times she didn’t want to get married (like she had with the ‘Bumplets’) and was so reluctant to even talk about it convinced him that _Harley,_ not Harleen, wanted it.

            J still had no idea why she wanted it and it was driving him crazy. All he could infer is that it would make her happy. And J liked making her happy. Judging by other people’s purported reasoning (a useless metric as far as he could tell) to get married and Harley’s general tenacious need to get as close to him as possible, it was possible that she just wanted to feel ‘more connected’ to him.

            “How much fucking closer does she need to feel?” J muttered to himself, absentmindedly stabbing his desk.

            Historically, his version of friendship was being amused enough by someone not to murder them (yet), but somehow Harley had wormed into the subconscious of Gotham’s most notorious villain. He thought about her constantly when he was at the club, when he was tearing apart a chew toy, when he was playing a prank, when he was trying to sleep. He got her gifts just because he wanted her to smile. Killed people for just looking at her wrong. Made her the Queen of Gotham. He was a dangerous monster who’d somehow fallen in love with another monster. He didn’t know the stats on the likelihood of that, but it seemed pretty fucking low. They were as hideously and codependently ‘connected’ (whatever the hell that meant) as was possible.

            Practically speaking, it wasn’t as if getting hitched would even change anything. The only benefit he could _possibly_ see was having a formal claim her in the eyes of the law (no matter how irrelevant to their lives) and ‘god’ (no matter how inferior to himself). But he’d essentially already done that when he made her the Queen of Gotham. If people couldn’t figure out just what that meant, then they were too stupid to deserve to live.

            What the hell was the point of doing something so disgustingly normal and boring like getting married were no benefits?

            But a small voice that he’d once named Jack (whom he generally tried very hard to ignore) volunteered, if there were no down sides other than making him uncomfortable and it would make her very happy- why _not_ do it? God knew she deserved some happiness after all that had happened… And he had told himself that if he was able to give her the second thing The Enchantress showed her, he would. As long as it wasn’t her trying to force him to play house with her, how bad could it be?

            “Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself while pouring a tumbler of whiskey. He didn’t need to make up his mind, he could just… investigate possibilities. If he decided he was going to do it, he’d be prepared. If he decided that marriage was far too disgustingly normal, no one ever needed to know. He just needed someone who wouldn’t tell a soul.

            J smiled dangerously to himself, he knew just the man. He flipped his phone open and sent a text to Slappy. There were many reasons to keep the giant around, and in addition to amusing him, having a perpetually silent underling was certainly useful. Who knew that cutting his tongue out all those years ago would have paid off so well?

            “Slappy, good of you to show up.” He drawled five minutes later when he heard tell-tale crashing steps from the hall. The black-and-white clad man burst in the door with a bow and a crazed smile.

            “I have a project for you. It’s a surprise for Miss Quinn and if you tell anyone I will gut you.” J growled while taking a long drink of whiskey. Slappy just smiled and looked oddly excited. If that was because of the threat or the idea of surprising Harley, J couldn’t say. He couldn’t really tell how much Slappy understood but the strange man had his purposes. Mostly silently stealing things and blowing shit up, but those were very important purposes.

            “You are going to sit out the Waller execution prep. Instead, you have five days find the finest assortments of jewelry all of Gotham.” He said grandiosely and gesticulating sarcastically.

            “Museum, store, private collections- I don’t care. For homework, you’ll bring me pictures of the ring selections from the three best options. A man of your fine taste should have no trouble handling that assignment but if I don’t like them, I’ll make rings out of your vertebrae.” J explained with a sneer.

            If Slappy had guessed why J wanted the steal rings or understood just what having rings made of his spine entailed, he didn’t show it. The man just nodded eagerly, tipped his beret, and hurried out of the door.

            “The fuck am I doing?” J muttered to himself, pouring another tumbler of whiskey. What an odd influence his Jester was on him. When the fuck did he start considering doing things that made him uncomfortable to make other people happy? Well, really just Harley. He certainly wouldn’t do it for anyone else.

            While he wouldn’t marry her if he hated the idea, he equally wouldn’t do choose to do it if wasn’t important to her. J was stubborn enough to try and resist the undefined need, the madness, that pulled them together like gravity, but he knew he’d been surrendering to it inch by inch for years. He supposed it was a bit tit for tat. She was the only person insane enough to love The Joker and she was the only person he would ever sacrifice his own needs, let alone wants, for.

 

* * *

            

            Harley ran her fingers over the drawer of toys she’d opened. Harley rarely prepared ahead of time for pranks, but this one needed to be perfect. They would be delivering Waller (well, parts of her) to Batsy in just forty-two hours (twenty-five minutes, and six seconds- not that she was counting). Soon she and her Puddin’ would be forcing him to read messages carved into her skin. Watching him realize everything that he’d taken from her and J. Seeing him learn just what kind of people he had outsourced Gotham’s problem children to. Making him stare down just what he’d become.

            Planning the Waller execution and subway gassing had easily been the most complicated game she’d been involved with in her time with J, but it was going to be so worth it to watch the Masked Crusader crumble under his own weight.

            J had been sweet (well, sweet by their standards- horrifying for anyone else’s) and had told her to get lost and start working on her goodie bag while he finished briefing Slappy on the subway gassing. He knew she thought briefings were boring and he’d let her off the hook to go play with toys. Her Puddin’ was too perfect, she smiled to herself while holding up a small bone saw, twisting it this way and that to admire how the light reflected off of the steel.

            “It’s a damn shame you won’t get to use none of them, princess,” the Lady sighed.

            “I know, the execution is barely gonna be any fun. But Ice Queen has too many important friends with guns for us to stick around and play.” Harley wined back.

            “Not that I condone torture-” Harleen began cautiously before being cut off by the Lady.

            “Oh, shut up, we all know ya like it.” The Lady laughed.

            “Don’t interrupt, it’s rude. Even if you had all the time in the world that psychopathic bitch isn’t going to give you the kind of disgusting so-called fun you’re looking for.”

            “I’d still enjoy it,” Harley laughed bitterly while fiddling with the trigger of a purple handgun. As much as she hated to admit it, Harleen had a point. Waller would be too detached and not nearly scared enough to be any fun. A quick bullet to the brain from a sniper would have to do. Harley wished she could at least pull the trigger herself but knew her sharpshooting left much to be desired.

            She’d considered tracking down Deadshot and getting him to do the job but then his revenge would blend with hers and J’s revenge. She knew Deadshot hated Waller, he had good reason to, but she wasn’t letting anyone steal their thunder on this. Many people had suffered at Waller’s hand, but they weren’t Puddin’ or herself and therefore they didn’t matter. It was their revenge, no one else’s.

            J seemed to agree whole heartedly and had thrown himself into planning their most elaborate and deadly prank yet. However, Harley giggled anxiously while testing the sharpness of a blade on the back of her arm, her partner could only focus in fits and start the last week. While J had just as much reason to be chomping at the bit to get revenge, he seemed distracted.

            “You’re getting ready to retaliate; I would be shocked if it wasn’t weighing on him. And as you damn well know from Mr. Joker’s time at Arkham, he doesn’t exactly have healthy coping mechanisms for dealing with bad memories.” Harleen scoffed in her most annoying teacher’s pet voice.

            “His coping skills are perfect; you just don’t like them.” Harley laughed. Besides, J hadn’t been killing more people than usual or torturing more sadistically recently. He hadn’t even set a single fire in the last week. The only odd thing he’d been doing was staring at her vacantly like he was trying to solve a particularly hard math problem. Whatever was distracting her Puddin’, she reassured herself while testing the spring-loaded hinges on several switch blades and slipping her selections into a bag, it didn’t seem like it was anything she had to worry about.

            “Don’t you start with your moral relativism argument again!” Harleen started, her feathers thoroughly ruffled.

            “Harleen, remember the time I burned down your apartment to make you shut up?” Harley groaned, “Don’t make me tell the same joke twice, it will get old.”

            “Oooh, whose gonna win this one? Harleen, are ya gonna let Harley win so ya get to keep the moral high ground? Or are ya gonna see how long you can argue with her before she lights somethin’ up? The suspense is killin’ me!” The Lady laughed loudly.

            “You to.” Harley snapped, rubbing her temples to alleviate the headache the voices were giving her.

            “What? Lil’ ol’ me?” The Lady cried in a mock offended voice. “What do you even got on me?”

            “I swear to god if you don’t both shut the fuck up, I’m burning down Harleen’s old sorority house and am never eating starbursts again.”

            “Even the pink ones?” The Lady gasped, horrified.

            “Especially the pink ones.”

            “Fine. Fuck you.” The Lady grumbled.

            Harley refocused on the toys in front of her and tossed several side arms into her bag. Her Puddin’ wasn’t acting like he was worried about something serious. Who knows, she laughed, maybe he was just getting stressed out about her third re-birthday present. She zipped up her purse and began the walk back to her Puddin’s office. J would tell her what he’d been thinking so hard about when he was ready, and they’d have fun doing whatever it was he’d decided on. Not all secrets were dangerous.

 

* * *

            

            J looked down both sides of the hall and quickly, double checking that Harley was out of sight, and closed the door to his study. He turned and looked critically at the giant standing before his desk. Slappy bounced on his toes and excitedly produced a large manila folder he’d been hiding under the ruffles of his sparkling shirt.

            “We have ten minutes tops before she gets back from the armory. Let’s get this over with quickly” J said, flopping into the seat behind his desk and holding out his hand for the envelope.

            The first set of images appeared to be inside a rather opulent home. J raised an eyebrow at the silent giant, how the fuck Slappy got into half the places he did was something of a mystery. Whoever this person was- they had quiet the collection. J looked through some of the pieces Slappy had picked out as potential gets. While the colorful stones were impressively large, the settings themselves were clearly antiques and had large ‘W’ crests embossed on them. There was likely money in collecting historic pieces, but J had no use for them or whoever the ‘W’ family was.

            The second looked to be an upscale jewelry store. J liked the golden settings, they were delightfully gaudy, but the place seemed to specialize in diamonds. He _might_ relent to marrying Harley but he sure as shit wouldn’t wear a boring diamond. He was The Joker and she was Harley Quinn, and neither would be caught dead in something so traditional.

            The third was clearly the Gotham Museum of Art. There was something to be said for that location, it was the venue of Harley’s first serious heist. The settings were just as gaudy as the ones in the jewelry store but had stones as colorful as the home collection Slappy had shown him. Lots of purple, a fair bit of red, even some green.

            J raked his hands through his hair trying to think. He hadn’t ever thought about having a relationship, other people had never even interested him. How he’d gone from there to now considering marrying someone was fucking confusing. He couldn’t give Harley everything she wanted; he would never be able to give her the world The Enchantress had shown her. But he could give her this. Besides, having a formal claim on each other, a tactile reminder of just who the other belonged to, was appealing in ways he couldn’t really describe. J sighed, letting his hands fall loudly back to his desk.

            “Get together whatever underlings aren’t involved in the Waller execution and subway gassing. Steal and fuck things up to your hearts content at the first two locations.” J said in a falsely dismissive voice. He wasn’t sure when he’d made up his mind, but somewhere in the last few days he must have decided. Otherwise the words tumbling from his lips would have made no sense.

            He supposed he could hold the heist until after they killed Waller, but for some reason he needed to do this for Harley before they confronted their demons. It was arguably a stupid idea to do a last-minute heist at the Gotham Museum of Art. But he’d done it so many times that stealing from the grand building felt more like retrieving goodies from his own personal warehouse than a break in.

             “Harley and I will take care of the third location. Now, take the pictures and get out. Make sure you burn them.” J growled at Slappy. Slappy bowed dramatically and skipped away while miming joyful fireworks. J reclined back in his seat and took a long drink, what a strange world he lived in.

            “I’m baaack!” Harley cried from the door way just as Slappy left, posing with a small bag full of goodies.

            “Oh?” J asked, trying to keep an even facial expression. Thank god he’d ushered Slappy out of his office, the giant’s poker face couldn’t have fooled a child. That was part of the reason J had taken his tongue. “What toys did you pick?”

            “My two little purple hand guns, an absurd number of knives, and a garrote. Nothin’ fancy.” Harley shrugged with a smile, plopping down onto J’s desk. “Are you done with work for the day or do we have to explain our plans to yet another group of stupid henchmen?” J smirked and stood in front of Harley, pulling her towards him so he stood between her legs.

            “Everyone who needs to know anything knows what they need to know and our goodies are locked and loaded.” He purred, running his hands down Harley’s sides and tucking his hands into her back pockets. “I think our to-do list is all done.”

            “You’ve been a busy boy,” Harley chuckled, pressing a kiss to his neck.

 

* * *

 

 

            “Indeed,” he laughed, tilting his head to give Harley greater access to skin for her to nibble at. “And as a reward for both of our hard, dedicated work these last months, I’m taking you out on the town tonight.” He continued grandiosely.

            Harley pulled back to look at him curiously. Having a date night right before they were going to get revenge was a risky move. They could be arrested or injured which would put a serious damper on their plans. But judging by the mischievous twinkle in his eye, he wasn’t going to be dissuaded and she wasn’t sure she even wanted to dissuade him.

            “Oh, where am I being treated to tonight?” Harley asked with an excited smile.

            “That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he laughed.

            “Puddin’! Tell me!” She cried, slapping him playfully in the chest.

            “Nope.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because it’s a surprise.” He chuckled, biting playfully at the hand that had slapped his chest.

            “Then I’ll have to convince you otherwise.”

            “You’re welcome to try, but it isn’t going to work.” He responded cockily. Harley laughed and picked up her phone, scrolling until she found an appropriate song and turned it to full blast.

            “I think you’ll find I can be pretty persuasive, Puddin’,” she smirked while unlacing her corseted blouse. J’s eyes slipped from hers and began to trail down her body to her now partially exposed breasts. Harley could vaguely hear him mutter something that sounded like ‘you have no idea,’ but couldn’t quiet be sure over the music playing.

            Harley stood slowly and pushed him back into his seat with the tip of her finger. Harley leaned back against the desk and finished unlacing her shirt, allowing it to fall of her body. She smiled seductively and ran her fingers though her pig tails and trailed them down her torso to caress her breasts while undulating to the music. J spread his legs and shot her an intrigued smirk and lifted his hands to encourage her to lower herself onto his lap.

            Harley wagged a finger at him and began unbuttoning the fly of her short-shorts while swaying her hips to the beat of the music. She leaned down pulling them down the length of her legs, turning to give him a view of her still rocking bottom. Harley snapped back to standing and stepped out of her shorts. She lifted heal clad foot onto his shoulder and began unrolling her thigh-high stocking.

            J’s eyes darted up and down her body, staring at her breasts down to her long legs then back up to her smrking face. She slowly leaned back so her bottom was resting on the desk to pull her shoe off and tossed the stocking at his lap. Her hands trailed down her other leg and removed her remaining shoe. She then placed her foot in his lap and raised her eyebrow, indicating for him to take of her stocking. He smirked in response and leaned forwards to bite the top of her stocking between his teeth and pulling downward to unroll her stocking down her leg.

            Harley giggled and turned around leaning over the desk and arching her back deeply and swaying to the beat of the music. She bent her knees slowly, lowering herself and bouncing back up. One hand reached back, running down her torso and down between her legs. She gasped as her fingers danced over her clitoris before reaching back for J’s hand and placing it on the waistband of her thong. J growled, pulling her panties down slowly and groping her bottom. His hands trailed over her skin in light teasing caresses before drawing back and spanking her hard across the left cheek.

            “Fuck!” Harley gasped, shaking her head to dispel the haze of arousal that had sunk over her. She turned around and pressed his torso back to his seat. Puddin’ was distracting her all too well and she wasn’t about to let that happen. Picking up the belt that had been on her shorts, she stepped behind his chair. She leaned over him, trailing her hands over his torso and scratching at him until he was growling. Harley leaned over him and pressed hard, sucking kisses to his neck. Once he was sufficiently distracted, she gently took his hands and quickly restrained them behind the back of the chair with her belt.

            “Harley, what are you doing?” J asked with a harsh note in his voice.

            “I’m making you behave.” She giggled, stepping back around in front of him and sinking to her knees and unbuttoning the few buttons of his shirt he’d bothered to do up with her mouth.

            “Harley,” he warned, clearly uncomfortable with the turn the night had taken. Harley just smiled and crawled towards him with a deep arch in her back. “You think you can control me with pleasure?” He growled making Harley bark out a laugh.

            “Even I’m not crazy enough to think I can control you, Puddin’” She giggled. “Now, you wanna be let go?” she said, kneeling up and trailing her hands up his thighs. “Tell me where we’re going tonight.”

            “No,” He growled.

            “Well then,” she laughed pushing his shirt open. She kissed him, letting her lips dance with his until the tension in his lips relaxed and his breathing became loud and slow. Her fingers tangled in his green hair and pulled gently, forcing a groan out of him. Harley crawled up his body until she was rocking over his lap, coming so close to touching him that she could almost feel the scratch of his dress pants but not quiet. Harley rolled her body over him, presenting her breasts to him but not allowing herself to get close enough for his lips to reach her flesh.

            “Harley,” he groaned, bucking his hips so his clothed erection almost grazed her flesh, “Come here. Let me have you.”

            “No.” She giggled, lowering herself back to the floor on her knees. Her lips trailed down from his lips and onto his neck to nibble and suck at the skin. Small purple and red bruises blossomed on his skin, marking her path southwards. His hips bucked against her chest as her fingers scratched teasing welts down his torso. Harley unbuttoned his trousers with her teeth and let her tongue dart under his waist band.

            “Wanna tell me now?” She murmured distractedly against his fly which she’d begun to unzip with her teeth.

            “No.” He grunted; jaw tight with strain. Harley laughed quietly and pressed her breasts against his groin. “Definitely not.”

            “What about now?” She smirked, removing his cock from his trousers and trapping it between her breasts and gently squeezing them together.

            “Fuck!” He gasped, thrusting his cock unevenly in her cleavage. “I’m not telling you!”

            “Are you sure about that?” Harley giggled, lowering her face to his cock and licking a hot strip from balls to tip. His cock lurched against her tongue, forcing Harley to grip and massage his base with one hand while she sank her mouth over him. Relaxing her jaw, Harley took him as deep as she could while sucking hard.

            “Harley- fuck!” J grunted. “Untie me, let me touch you.” Harley didn’t bother to lift her mouth from her length to shake her head and tell him no, making the vibrations of her vocalizations echo down his cock.

            “Harley,” he growled with a slight note of threat in his voice. She ignored him, letting her hands dip down to his balls to pull against their accent.

            “If you want me to untie you, tell me what we’re doing tonight!” She demanded through panted breaths while her tongue lapped at his shaft and flicked into his slit. “Answer me!” She giggled, biting harshly at his inner thigh. Unfortunately for her, the only impact of her words was a hard twitch from his cock and a bead of arousal dripping down his shaft.

            “No.” He grunted, shaking his head as if to clear his mind.

            “What if I do this?” She asked playfully. Her tongue darted lower to tangle with his balls and suck them into her mouth while her fingers pressed delicious circles into the soft flesh underneath them.

            “Harley!” He shouted. J’s cock was so hard it was nearly sharp and large beads of precome trickled down it’s bright red head. She could hear his restrained grunts and growls as he tried not to give in- to her, to his orgasm she wasn’t sure. But she knew she wasn’t about to let him come until he told her his plans.

            Just as his moans grew in volume and Harley could feel the steady pulsing of his length under her hand, she sat back on her heals so no part of her touched him except her fingers massaging circles beneath his balls. She smirked, well aware that it was just enough sensation to keep him on edge but not enough to push him over.

            “Harley!” He shouted, glaring down at her.

            “You want to come?” She asked back innocently with big eyes, her fingers moving lighter and lighter against him.

            “Fuck yes, you evil Little Monster.”

            “Then tell me where we’re going.”

            “No!” He shouted back incredulously.

             “Fine then,” Harley said haughtily, bouncing to her feet. She sat back on the desk and spread her legs, so that her feet were balanced on each arm rest. Harley reclined backwards so her breasts jutted forward and let her fingers run down between her breasts. She pinched her nipple between her fingers, moaning behind closed lips.

            “Come here,” J growled, staring at her with fire in his eyes and his cock pulsing in front of him, dripping on to his trousers.

            “No.” Harley giggled, “I’m busy.” Her hands wandered down from palming her breasts to stroke the line of her labia. She allowed her hands to trail down her thighs before scratching red lines them that made him groan. With one hand, she parted her folds to show J her shining inner petals.

            “You are paying for this when you untie me.” J growled, his reddened cock twitching against his abdomen. Harley just giggled sexily, her free hand going to palm and tease her breasts. The fingers holding her petals open darted down to her entrance, quickly darting inside of her and pulling out to show him the glistening fluid on her fingers.

            “You want this?” She moaned, holding her hand towards him.

            “Fuck yes.” He groaned with a feral look in his eye.

            “Too bad you’re a little tied up right now,” she mock sighed, “more for me I guess.” She lowered her glistening fingers to her lips and let her tongue dart out to lick the length and swirl around them. It wasn’t her favorite flavor, but watching J’s reaction, his heaving chest, reddened cheeks, and bouncing cock was well worth it.

            “You evil, evil woman.” J growled; his eyes gone completely black. Harley leaned back further onto the desk, lifting one leg from his armrest to his shoulder and allowing her hand that massaged her breast to wander down to her flower. A small groan escaped around the fingers that she sucked relentlessly on as her other hand began to trace teasing circles over the bud of nerves at the apex of her folds. Harley was somewhat surprised by how wet she’d become. Showing off her body didn’t historically turn her on, but her Puddin’ was an exception in every way.

            After teasing her clitoris for a painfully long minute, Harley let her fingers wander down to her entrance and began thrusting two fingers inside herself. She curled them to directly press against her g-spot and undulated her hips gracefully against their thrust.

            “Uh!” She whined, trying and failing to remain focused on giving her man a show. It was hard to keep in mind that she was trying to drive him insane enough with lust to admit something he didn’t want to when such delicious tingles were shooting through her body. Between the sensation of the heel of her palm grinding against her clitoris, her fingers pumping inside of her, and her Puddin’s heated stare- it was hard to focus.

            She debated letting him free to finish the job, after all her orgasms were always better with him, or continuing to make him watch. Her walls flexed hard around her fingers and a wave of her essence sloshed from her core. She could feel an orgasm approaching that, while not as intense as the ones that came from his hands, promised to leave her reclined in a pool of juices. The sensation of her walls flexing around her fingers quickly made up her mind, she’d make him watch the first of what she hoped would be many this evening.

            “Tell… me” She panted, rocking hard against her fingers. “Tell me and I’ll let you out.”

            “No.” J growled. “Let me see.”

            “Can you see how- uh! How wet I am for you? I’m going to ruin your desk at this rate.” She giggled breathlessly.

            “Harley,” He groaned, his cock twitching wildly. “Do it. Ruin it.”

            “I’m going to Puddin’, but not yet.” She gasped. Not wanting to sacrifice the opportunity to tease her man, Harley removed her fingers from her core. She returned to her clit, giving several light rubs while allowing the delicious waves of pleasure to back off before allowing her fingers to trail back down. This time she pressed her pointer and index fingers to her entrance while allowing her slippery middle finger to wander lower down to her tighter entrance and probe its scalloped edge.

            “Fuck yes.” J growled, leaning forward towards the apex of Harley’s thighs as if he’d forgotten his restraints until they jerked him back against his chair.

            “Is this what you wanted?” She purred, using one hand to support her reclined form while her other hand sunk into both of her holes and her thumb played with her clit. Her hips seemed to have a mind of their own, rocking and bucking against their thrust. The deep clenching sensation and waves of pleasure grew more intense and closer together, leaving little space for Harley to do anything than let her head fall backwards and shout to the ceiling.

            “Tell me and you could take the place of my hand,” Harley panted desperately, the flickers of pleasure beginning to consume her.

            “Harely…” J groaned brokenly. Her hand moved faster between her legs. The delicious sensation of one finger abrading the nerves hidden deep within her tighter entrance blended with the intense sparks of pleasure of her fingers pressing against her g-spot made her cry out.

            “Almost, Puddin, almost-” she grunted. Her thumb moved faster over her clitoris, making her cry out brokenly and her legs twitch. She was dimly aware of her toes curling hard against her Puddin’s shoulder and the distant sound of ripping fabric but didn’t particularly care.

            “Yes-Puddin’!” Harley shouted as her orgasm crashed into her, her hips losing all rhythm as she bucked wildly against her hand. Fluids pulsed against her palm and trickled onto the desk underneath her. “Puddin’,” she gasped again, leaning further back until she rested on both her elbows and she slowly removed her fingers from herself and returned her feet to the floor.

            “Tell me.” She panted, sitting up slowly and lowering herself onto J’s lap with a seductive roll of her hip against his while trying to ignore the anxious buzz in her core that demanded more. His face looked almost pained before adopting a vacant, distracted look.

            “Tell me or I’ll leave you here.” Harley rolled her body over his, swaying over him. Suddenly, the silence of the room was broken by the loud clunking noise of metal on marble.

            “That would be rather hard to do.” J chuckled dangerously, his newly freed hands coming around front to grab Harley’s face and crush her lips to his. Harley lost herself it the desperate press of their kiss. It was all teeth and tongue and need and perfection.

            “Did you just break my belt?” She laughed breathlessly.

            “I’ll buy you a new one.”

            “Took you longer to escape than I expected.” Harley panted against his lips.

            “I was distracted.” He growled, pressing her lips back to his.

            “Oh, where you?” She giggled, kissing him hard.

            “My turn,” He growled, standing up with her still wound around his body and walking blindly towards the room that connected his office to their apartment.

            Harley kissed him hard as he walked them backwards, doing her best to distract him. Judging by the uneven thrusts of his cock along her slit and his growls- it was working. She gripped his hair like reins and did her best to get him to lose focus so she could topple him and take the lead again. Unfortunately for her, her best efforts only led to J pressing her to a wall next to the door that connected the two spaces.

            “What are you doing to me?” He growled with a smile.

            “Please,” Harley wined back, massaging the bud at the apex of her thighs against his hard length. While the motion had started as a way to tease him it had backfired spectacularly.

            “What does Daddy’s Little Monster need?” He asked, pinning her wrists over her head with one hand. His lips dropped to her neck, kissing and licking and biting a delicious trail from her ears to her clavicles and down her tattooed sternum. Harley couldn’t control the arrhythmic bucking of her hips. His cock was lined up against her wet, aching flesh but in her restrained position she couldn’t angle him enough to penetrate her.

            “Need you inside of me,” She wined, tossing her head against the wall desperately. J’s free hand dropped from her breast which he’d literally brought to his mouth down to her ass where he pulled her against him a few times before hiking her further up his body. With a slight shift of his hips and an entirely gratuitous bit of wiggling on Harley’s part, the sticky helmet of his cock slid into her.

 

* * *

 

 

            J panted, pressing his forehead against Harley’s. He was far more out of control and desperate than he wanted to be after her little show but didn’t want her to know. While he suspected she was well aware of just how effectively she tormented him, he didn’t need to make it obvious. But the sensation of her orgasm slickened slit grinding against him for the last five minutes after watching her get herself off and being denied his orgasm was taking its toll.

            “Fuck me!” Harley cried, making his hips thrust forward without his leave.

            “God, Harley.” J growled, trying to ignore the sublime feeling of her channel clutching at him and droplets of her arousal wandering down his cock. “Tell me you want me.” He grunted while doing his best not to destroy his grill between his clenched teeth.

            “Oh, fuck, Puddin’ want you so much.” She growled, doing her best to rock her hips against his from her restrained position. “Need you.”

            “What do you need?” J asked tauntingly, giving her several deep, slow thrusts before returning to a shallow grind.

            “Please! More.” She cried, her muscles all but milking his length. Her lips fell to the juncture of his neck and his shoulder, biting punishing bruises into his skin. J gasped at the deliciously painful sensation and was powerless to stop the increased force of his thrusts.

            “You’ll have to do better than that, Little Monster.” He gasped, trying to maintain his usual authoritative voice and failing miserably.

            “God, J. Need you inside of me all the time.” She cried, tilting her hips back so his thrusts hit her sweet spot. “Want you constantly. Think about it all the time.” She whimpered while her legs tried to pull him harder and faster against her. “You’re the only thing I want, only thing I need.”

            “Very good,” J purred, trying to hide just how effected he was by her words. He expected her to just ramble about how much she wanted his cock. While he wasn’t totally wrong, having her talk about just how completely she needed and wanted him only made him bite back a grin thinking about his surprise for her tonight. J could feel his resolve shattering, unable to stop himself his hips began to move faster against hers.

            “Please Puddin’!” Harley cried against his lips, seemingly having given up on her mission to uncover his plans for the night. J fought himself to keep his eyes open. He didn’t want to miss a moment of her blissfully contorted face or how the shine of sweat made her milk white skin look like it was glowing. J almost wished he’d fucked her on the desk so he could watch the jiggle of her breasts and the comings and goings of his cock inside of her but couldn’t bring himself to move them from the wall. Not when his girl had completely ensnared him like this.

            “Yes, Harley.” He groaned. His hand dropped from her wrists and her hands were immediately in his hair, gripping his shoulders, scratching lines down his back. J gripped her ass harder and lifted her slightly higher so he could move faster inside of her without sacrificing the direct grind of his pubic bone on her clitoris. Her reaction was swift and not at all stubble. The muscles of her channel immediately began clenching around him and a wave of juices dripped down his cock.

            “Fuck, almost… almost Puddin’,” She gasped against his lips, her hips bucking harder and harder against him. J wouldn’t have been able to stifle the deep groans and grunts that welled up from his chest if he wanted to. The sound of Harley’s wails combined with the desperate clenching of her pussy were going to kill him if the feeling of her juices dripping off his balls, which were loudly slapping against her, didn’t.

            “You feel like perfection.” He growled, trying to hold on and ignore the way his cock lurched inside of her or that his balls were trying to crawl back inside of him.

            “Oh! Uh- yes! Yes- Puddin!” She cried brokenly, her hips suddenly freezing against his and her legs trembling with strain.

            “Fuck!” J grunted, trying to hold back his own orgasm as Harley’s began to crest over her. He bit his lips between his teeth until the sharp flavor of blood slapped him in the face. Focus regained, J redoubled his efforts and snapped his hips at the top of each thrust, so his tip pressed firmly against her cervix while his length dragged against her g-spot. Harley tossed back her head and opened her mouth in a silent scream while her hips bucked hard and completely arrhythmically against his. The wet sounds of their fucking grew louder as her orgasm crashed over her and the combination of the pull of gravity and the push of her pulsing muscles ejected her fluids in a forceful gush against him.

            “Harley,” J groaned, slowing his hips to a stop. He had no idea how he’d resisted coming but was damn grateful he had. Watching Harley’s flushed face resting against his shoulder and her unfocused eyes blink slowly at him was intoxicating. He had no idea how his little demon could look so much like an angel.

            “Puddin’” Harley crooned dazedly, “love you.” He grinned down at her trying to keep his thrusts slow while she caught her breath. Suddenly Harley’s sleepy eyes flickered with mischief. Her next movements happened in slow motion. One hand slipped behind his head. The other gripped his shoulder hard. A leg dropped so that her heel was braced behind his knee. The other kicked off the wall hard before moving to lock behind his other knee. Then J was falling to the carpet in the hallway of their apartment. Her hand held his head up, so it didn’t collide with the ground. She bent her legs, so that she landed hovering above him with her knees on either side of his hips.

            “Harley!” He growled, not sounding nearly as irritated as he was trying to.

            “Yes, Puddin?” She asked teasingly, rocking her slit over his length which had popped out of her in their fall. J didn’t dignify her with an answer and just shot her an amused glare that made her laugh.

            “Wanna tell me what were doing tonight?” She asked breathlessly, reaching down to grip his cock and tease her clit with his tip.

            “No!” J choked out with a laugh. How the fuck was she still thinking about logistics when all he could think about was the near painful throbbing in his cock that demanded he be balls deep in his girl?

            “What about now?” She moaned, sinking down onto his length. Her hips rolled against him slowly. His dress pants were going to join a large collection of articles of clothing that they’d destroyed while fucking by the time they finished- and he couldn’t wait. J growled and gripped her soft hips hard enough to leave ten little red marks and pulled her against him harder.

            “I’m not telling you until we’re about to leave.” He grunted, bucking underneath her. Harley just shot him a feral smile and pulled his hands from her hips and pinned them beside his head. “Fuck- Harder!”

            “Like this?” She asked, too breathless to sound teasing. Her hips flew against him with near violent force that made both of them cry out. Every few thrusts her pelvic floor muscles would clench like she was trying to strangle his cock; he couldn’t tell if she was doing it on purpose or not, but he never fucking wanted it to stop.

            “Perfect, Harley, you’re perfect” He growled, countering her thrusts as best he could without the use of his hands. Harley leaned over him to press desperate open-mouthed kisses to his lips. Her new angle was perfect for J to anchor his feet into the ground and roll his hips so that his cock massaged the spongy tissue just beyond her entrance.

            “Shit,” she cursed under her breath, her chest expanding and contracting rapidly while she gasped for air.

            “Need you to come for me- fuck! Need you.” J grunted inarticulately as she continued to pound against him relentlessly. “Need you.” J crushed his eyes closed, desperate to hold on and fight the bolts of pleasure that were shooting up his spine until his girl came for him one last time. There wasn’t a chance in hell of him being able to last through another of her orgasms, he wasn’t even sure how he’d even make it that far.

            “Almost, almost!” She whined, pushing herself up right and bouncing in his lap. She pulled one of his hand to the apex of her thighs. “More! Need you.” J growled in response and began tracing light, fast circles over her nub. With each circle her voice seemed to go up another octave until her cries were high and desperate.

            “Can’t hold on much longer,” J warned, shaking with restraint. Fuck she felt too perfect. Too tight. Too hot. Too wet. Too his. J ripped his remaining pinned wrist from Harley’s grasp and locked his fingers in her hair to pull her down for a searing kiss before traveling lower to her bottom to pull her against him harder and faster. She’d teased him too long. But it didn’t matter. They were both fighting a losing battle and it was just a matter of time to see who would fall first.

            “Puddin!” Harley shouted, her lower body shaking so hard that J had to use both hands to continue to pull her against him. While her pussy had clenched at him before, in the throes of her orgasm it milked him until all he could do was throw back his head and shout as his balls pulled in tight one last time.

            “Harley,” He cried, bucking unevenly against her until the overwhelming waves of pleasure faded. The last hour of teasing combined with the feeling of their near simultaneous orgasm had J all but sobbing with pleasure in between her legs. It was impossible to tell in the moment if they were being soaked by fluids spraying out of her, if he had flooded her channel, or some combination of the two- but both were suddenly aware of a flush of wetness and the obscenely loud thrusts of their bodies together.

            Eventually the two’s frantic thrusts turned to slow rocking that gradually faded as Harley wilted on top of his chest. J’s hands ran absent mindedly up and down her back while the two exchanged sedate kisses. Eventually Harley let out a sleepy giggle that startled J from his half-conscious stupor.

            “What?” He asked in a gravelly voice.

            “You still haven’t told me what we’re doing tonight.” Harley mumbled sleepily into the crook his neck. J laughed underneath her, jolting his now softened cock that was still buried inside of her and making both of them moan.

            “Worth it.” He purred without opening his eyes, running his hand down her back. He had a feeling she would agree once he told her but would prefer to have the conversation once they were both slightly more coherent.

            “I hate you.”

            “No, you don’t.” He grinned opening one eye, making Harley giggle and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

            “No, I don’t.” She yawned, settling back down on top of J. “Are you gonna tell me where we’re going now?”

            “Sleep first,” he mumbled sounding equally exhausted.

            “Puddin’,” she wined before yawning loudly. “Ok, fine. Sleep first but then you’re telling me.” The two went silent for a moment before Harley picked back up her head, “are we sleeping here?” J looked up, seemingly just remembering that the two had been fucking in the hallway.

            “No. Fuck. Don’t want to move.” He pouted as Harley crawled off of him and pulled him to his feet and dragged them to their bedroom where they promptly resumed the position they had been in moments before under the covers.

            “Love you.” She smiled sleepily, pressing a gentle kiss to his Adams apple.

            “Love you, too.”

 

* * *

            

            Harley was blasting her music at a volume that even she knew was annoying while staring at her clothes. It was hard to judge what to wear when they were going on a mystery adventure. Should she wear something theatrical for the benefit of the news cameras? Something distractingly sexy to confuse adversaries? Something to blend in with a crowd?

            J had blearily said they were going to get some goodies, leave some bodies behind, and have a very special night before getting in the shower. She smirked at her reflection, just her kind of night. If only her Clown would stop being such an elusive ass about it. Harley strained her hearing and thought the water had turned off, which was promising. He’d promised that he once he’d finished waking up, he’d tell her exactly what he was planning for date night.

            All she had figured out to wear so far was the dark purple lacy bustier and high waisted panty set she’d already put on and it wasn’t as if she could leave the house in that without her man committing mass murder. And they hadn’t planned on doing that for another 36-hours or so.

            Harley was holding up two outfits to herself when J burst in the door. He was already dressed up in a dark purple leather jacket, a black silk shirt with a distractingly few buttons done up, and dress pants. She screwed up her face, his outfit didn’t give her any clues. They could be going to the club or to play a prank on a black-tie event. Asshole.

            “Why aren’t you dressed?” He asked with an irritated laugh.

            “I don’t know what to wear,” she complained. “You won’t tell me where were going other than were stealing shit and making some friends- which is most nights!”

            “Aw, does Daddy’s Little Monster need a hint?” He condescended with a smile.

            “Keep that up and this night won’t end the way you want, Mistah J.” She snorted.

            “How could you possibly know what I was hoping? You don’t even know what we’re doing tonight.”

            “Let me guess,” she smirked. She dropped her clothes to the ground and sashayed towards her Puddin’. “We are gonna go visit a boring place all sneaky like and pick out some goodies.” She kissed a line down his neck and slid her hand under his untucked shirt.

            “That’s a given. What else do you think we’ll be up to?” J asked with a chuckle.

            “You and I are gonna smash up some shit and play with some ‘innocent’ bystanders.” She smiled winding her arms around his neck while his hands came to rest on her waist.

            “And just how do you see this theoretical night ending?” He smirked, as if he was in on a joke that she wasn’t.

            “We play the greatest hits. You’ll drive us home way too fast and I’m gonna suck you off the whole way back then you’re gonna fuck me in the garage.” She said slowly with a raised eyebrow like she was explaining something very obvious to someone very stupid.

            “Good guess,” He smirked. “But I’d give you a C+”

            “A C+!” Harley shrieked, biting his ear lightly in protest. “What did I get wrong?”

            “Well you see, Little Monster- there is a special collection down at the Gotham Museum of Art I thought we might visit. A bit of a trip down memory lane. The have all sorts of very, very expensive one-of-a-kind sparkly things on display.”

            “Mhm,” she said skeptically, clearly wondering what part of they were going to steal expensive shit she hadn’t outlined.

            “You are going to pick two rings out-” he began before Harley pulled back with a big pout.

            "I only get two, Puddin’?” She cried, since when did they limit how many things they were going to steal? She knew the heist was a little last minute and they didn’t want to get into _too much_ trouble right before their revenge plot- but limiting it to two rings seemed extreme.

            “I should have been more specific, my Jester. You only get one and you’ll have to pick one for me that I’m willing to wear in public.”

            Harley pulled back shocked. She looked up at him with a gaped open mouth. Her heart was racing loud enough to be pounding in her ears. She was almost scared to ask him why.  J slid one hand up her waist to shut her mouth with his hand and came to rest on her cheek.

            “I can’t give you everything you want, but I can give you some of it. Even if I think it’s stupid.”

            “Are you…?” She asked, unwilling to believe what he was saying. It was too exciting. Too much what she wanted.

            “Try not to have a heart attack, that would make our break-in a little more complicated that I was hoping for. Now the sooner you get dressed, get in the car, and pick out the rings the sooner you get to be Mrs. Puddin’.”

            The screech Harley let out was deafening as she tackled her man to the floor and silenced any editorial comments he might have made with a long, hard kiss.

            “Sounds like someone is happy.” He laughed, not bothering to smother the grin that had split across his face.

            “I get to marry my Puddin’ tonight and we get to hurt our enemies tomorrow,” Harley babbled, “I’m pretty sure that’s my version happily ever after.”

            “Happily ever after? How boring,” he laughed back with a quirk to his naked eyebrows. “How will we entertain ourselves once we run off into the sunset?”

            “Easy, we make some more enemies.” She purred, rubbing her body against his.

            “And then?” He crooned in dangerously haunting voice and pulled her closer to him and pressing a long lingering kiss to her lips.

            “Whatever the hell we want.” Harley’s words made J’s grin turn into something both threateningly and devastatingly authentic.

            “Sounds like perfection to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... how did I do? Was that satisfying enough of an ending? It has been so fun to share this story with all of you and I absolutely cannot wait to hear what you all think in the comments bellow.  
> I am considering reworking and expanding this story into a three part series. It would have the same general story ark but would be built out more and explore other characters/briefly mentioned plot points in more depth.  
> The first part would be an all new prequel that takes place during his stay at Arkham. It would be an 8-10 chapter exploration of how the two got involved, how the hell Joker allowed Harley into his life, and how Harleen turned into Harley.  
> Part two would be a significantly reworked version of chapters 1-9 that would focus on their developing relationship but most of the plot points would stay as is.  
> Part three would focus on the aftermath of Suicide Squad, possibly including some character from the movie, and would be an expanded version of chapters 10-13.  
> **If** I created this trilogy, I would keep this story up as a rough draft version. I am a slow writer (this one took me 10 months!) so I probably wouldn't be posting the first chapters of the prequel for 2-6 months depending on my job (the joys of adulthood). If I get writers block I have a few ideas for smutty one shots that I may write at some point, but I honestly don't love writing smut and would prefer to be working on the trilogy idea. Let me know what you think in the comments below!


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